


Ultima

by esama



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, BDSM, Dom/sub, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 21:36:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 54,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1241551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If things had ran their natural course, he would be an omega - but very little about Cloud Strife was natural these days.</p><p>(Not precisely omega-verse. It has the hierarchy dynamics, but not the biology.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net around 2012  
> Proofread by Darlene and Tsuyu

 

They send Vincent after him because when Cloud goes away, he usually only lets Vincent find him. That's how it works and that's what they're used to. But sometimes – especially this time – Vincent wishes it could've been someone else who was the Next in Line. Cloud in a fit of temper – whatever that temper might be – was a strange thing to handle, and he doesn't know how to approach the man when he finds him on some rooftop, some cliff, in a valley, a forgotten mansion, or an ancient forest, and doesn't know what he's thinking.

This time, Cloud sits on the cliff that overlooks what remains of Midgar, where one can only barely tell Edge from the ruins – where the rusting Buster Sword stands in silent watch over the ruined city, a marker, a tombstone, a remembrance. Cloud sits there almost like a boy, shoulders slumped, legs hanging over the edge and swinging in the air. He looks like someone else, someone less powerful – someone he might've once been, all those years and fights and masteries ago, and Vincent doesn't know how to approach this simile of weakness in a man so strong.

"They're finished," he says instead, keeping his distance, waiting for an order or a dismissal. Cloud does nothing and says nothing for a long while and the gunman lifts his head to look at the city, wondering what the other man sees – what it is, what it had been, what it never would be?

Then there is a pat – a gloved hand against the rough rock beside Cloud, telling Vincent to sit. The gunman doesn't, can't – but he steps closer and crouches down beside the blond man, the only allowance to acquiescence he can make unless he's forced. And he is – he always is because despite everything, Cloud is what he is.

Vincent doesn't look at the man beside him, and Cloud's eyes don't shift from the ruined city, and for a moment it feels as if it might not happen. But of course…

It still jolts him, to feel the hand brushing past his collar and his hair, to the back of his neck where the gloved fingers grip hard just at the sides, in that vulnerable spot between vertebrae where one forceful twist of those fingers would've easily separated them, breaking his spine and ending his life. It makes him tense and jolt, almost get up but he can't anymore, because Cloud is stronger and is keeping him down – and forcing him further down still, pushing him steadily but with definite force; not cruel, but insistent. Vincent fights against it, tries to raise his head, pushes himself up – has to, can't help it, because he _too_ is what he is – but Cloud is stronger.

The gunman falters and goes down, his knees hitting the rock. Cloud uses the sudden jerk to force his head down completely until Vincent can't see the city anymore, and is instead bowed there, staring furiously at the rocky valley below. He is stiff, but now that the force has been exerted, the tension is leaving him, leeched away by the reality of the situation – and he relaxes into the submission begrudgingly, but with a certain sort of relief.

Cloud holds him down for a little longer, waits until Vincent is completely relaxed, and the muscles of his neck are completely pliant, before he draws his hand back, satisfied with the show of submission. Vincent sighs, closing his eyes and doesn't look up immediately. It never stops feeling _wrong._ Right too – the submission turning him completely tranquil and willing in a way that makes him want to curl up, not on the ground but at Cloud's feet, revelling in the other man's strength and dominance. But the wrongness of it feels worse, because he would've preferred to feel only the tranquillity – only his own nature won't allow it, and so it comes unnaturally to him, with the strangeness of submission clashing with the forced tranquillity.

It never gets easier, being the strongest Alpha in the world – and then being thrown in _this_ man's presence.

"Sorry," the blond swordsman says – always says. Never used to the fact of what he has to be, has to do.

The gunman grunts in answer and tries to force back the urge to rub a hand along his neck – he still feels the bruising grip. "I prefer this to you Asserting," he answers and finally manages to bring back enough of his own strength of will to look up.

"I know," Cloud sighs and turns to face him. There is still a hint of the power in his eyes, somewhere beyond the Mako glow that somehow hides the actual strength, but it’s passing and in a moment Vincent knows he can pretend that it's just a normal mortal man beside him. "What was that you said?"

"They're finished," the gunman answers, and straightens his back a bit – not getting up from his kneeling position just yet. He can, but if he does Cloud would only see it as rebellion and force him down again, and Vincent doesn't have in him the power to pick himself up after a second go so soon.

"That was fast," the swordsman says and turns to look at the city again. Vincent looks at him, wondering what he's thinking. Cloud carries his heart on his sleeve with most of the simple things – children and what passes for his family – always plainly obvious and almost open. Not with this though – he only looks distant and weary.

"I should go with you," Vincent says before he can really think differently. No, he doesn't want to go, but he should. He could help, be of use – he could aid his… whatever Cloud is to him. Whatever he is to everyone on the Planet. The Alpha inside Vincent fights against it, but he is subservient to Cloud and the need to appease, though always fought against, never goes away. He could help. Gaia knows Cloud needs help.

"You can't," Cloud says, almost regretful – and it makes the gunman shiver a bit to realise that he's not the first to consider it. Cloud would've liked for Vincent to go with him, or maybe he would've liked just _anyone_ to go. Probably Vincent the most because he could keep up with him, now and then, while the others couldn't. Cloud had considered it – and dismissed it.

Vincent bows his head and looks at the valley. Dismissed. It makes sense, though. They don't match and never will – no Alpha can with Cloud. It would turn into constant fighting and power play and eventually Vincent would only grow to hate the man for his power. He wouldn't want to, would try not to, but he wouldn't be able to help it.

The blond swordsman glances at him and then chuckles. "There's a chance I won't be what I am, back there," he says and swings his feet, looking up and to the sky. He looks younger, different – weaker. "I used to be an omega, you know. Always the omega, of every group I was in."

That, more than anything, makes everything feel so strange about Cloud – because there is still a hint of the weak in him that makes the strong so out of place. Cloud doesn't _act_ properly – he acts like a much weaker man. He doesn't have the personality for dominance or control; not now, that his delusions have passed and what he stole from Zack Fair – the personality, the strength of will, the ability to lead and rule and dominate – is gone.

"I might become an omega again," Cloud murmurs, and he looks almost wistful.

"Would you like it?" Vincent asks with morbid curiosity – he can and can't imagine it. For as long as he has known the man, Cloud has been what he is – well, not quite. Cloud had been an Alpha first – with the strength of one given to him by Hojo and the behaviour of one stolen by him from his dead SOLDIER friend. And then… he had become this other thing, this something else – this _stronger than Alpha_ being. And for all that Cloud _acts_ weak, Vincent can't imagine him _being_ weak.

How weird it would be, to walk up to the man and not be forced to his knees?

"I don't know. It was… peaceful," Cloud says. "Omegas never have to make any decisions – and there is a certain allure in being led."

Vincent snorts at that – how right the man was. He had never been as weak as an omega – by the time his strength had begun to show, he had already known how to fire dozens of different weapons and how to fight in four different styles of hand to hand combat. His father would've _never_ endured an omega son and so instead Vincent had emerged as the beta of his classroom at the age of thirteen. He had been a beta for most his life, gamma for a while, and delta for a brief moment in Turk training, but mostly a beta. For a while, he had been a beta to Cloud too.

It could be wonderful, being led by a competent Alpha – to know and feel every moment that he was watched over, that everything that happened was controlled by a stronger being, that he and those below him, their gamma and delta and all the way to their omega, were protected by their Alpha. Cloud had made an awkward but a good leader at the time –strong enough to maintain perfect control, but relaxed enough not to make them feel restricted or forced. Caring enough to look after them, trusting in them enough to let them be strong by themselves.

And then… Chaos had happened to him – and Ultimate Weapon to Cloud.

And now everything feels unnatural between them.

Vincent shakes the thoughts away, the Alpha in him unwilling to consider just how much he wishes at times that he could still be a beta. Betas didn't have problems with Cloud – they could submit without going against their nature. No. He isn't thinking about it. "The others are waiting," he says. "I believe there is a timeframe we need to meet."

Cloud sighs and closes his eyes before shifting back and standing up – Vincent waits until he's upright, before doing the same. They turn to face the motorcycle Cloud had used to get there, and while the blond swordsman mounts it, Vincent looks at the city in the distance – a city which had once been the greatest on the Planet. Which had nearly been turned to cinders by Meteor. Which, for a while, looked like it might live.

Which is now dying before his eyes.

He snorts, while the Fenrir comes to life with a powerful mechanical purr. Cloud waits for him, not saying a word but with the slightest bit of impatience that makes the Alpha inside Vincent roar again – how dare he, _how dare he try and make me submit_ – but the fight is futile, meaningless, and he gives in to the need to submit to the man's wishes, wordlessly turning to the motorcycle and then sliding to sit behind the man.

Soon, there would be no need to worry about any of it anymore. Soon, there would be no one left to worry – and Cloud would be on his way to frustrate other Alphas in another time.

As Cloud turns the motorcycle around, driving along the cliff-side towards a downward slope that would take them down and to the valley, and from there to the plains and finally to the city, Vincent looks at the wrecked nature passing them by, not a hint of greenery in sight anywhere. It had once surrounded Midgar like a ring, the dead zone. Now it stretches all the way to Kalm, to the southern mountains, where it's met with the ring of dead plains that surrounds Junon.

Yes, he thinks, leaning back to avoid touching the man in front of him, holding onto the seat instead. Soon, there'd be no one left to worry about anything, Cloud or otherwise. "Do you think," he speaks, too low for a normal human to hear but Cloud isn't normal. "Do you think it will work?"

"Gotta try, either way," Cloud answers, equally low but loud enough for the gunman. "Nothing else left to do, really."

Vincent hums in agreement and closes his eyes, enjoying the fake wind, an illusion of it created by the speed at which they were going. He should – could – be going with Cloud back in time, but he is rather glad that he isn't. He isn't even sure he could face those times, knowing what he does, being what he is. As a beta, maybe he could've done it. As an Alpha?

Cloud is of a higher level but he can ignore the instincts that can plague an Alpha, so he isn't in danger of slipping because he can't stand not dominating someone. He has the impulses, a lingering side effect of Zack Fair, but they're not natural to him so he can ignore them in a way most can't. The only reason he forces submission onto someone – onto Vincent, onto other Alphas he encounters – is because he knows they'd end up in a fight if he didn't. If he didn't have to, he wouldn't bother with it at all. Vincent wouldn't be able to do that, just ignore the hierarchy like that. He is too strong – the strongest Alpha since Sephiroth – to not dominate.

He'd ruin everything, in some fit of instincts.

Though really, that's just an excuse.

"When you get there, will you seek my younger self out?" Vincent asks after a moment, as Edge comes nearer, in more ways than one.

"I don't know. Should I?" Cloud asks, glancing back at him.

"I would like you to. Don't let me linger in the darkness," Vincent says and closes his eyes, imagining it: that coffin, that mansion, the laboratories. More than that, though, he imagines the way he had been then, still weaker, without Chaos, still a _beta_. And with this Cloud – granted that Cloud kept what he had, the power he possessed – _that_ Vincent would also remain a beta, never having to endure the clash of mixed instincts that tore at him from the inside.

Enjoying the natural subservience that Vincent sometimes could admit he wished he still had.

"It might be bothersome though. Before Chaos, I… didn't have much control," Vincent muses, remembering. Cloud had to overpower him nearly every hour back then, because the beasts inside him had been raging so wildly, nearly out of control. It had been… excruciatingly satisfying.

"I remember," Cloud answers, low, and drives on.

 

* * *

 

 

"They're here," Rude says, and Reeve glances up from the computer, to see the former Turk watching the screens that displays the footage from what few security cameras the complex has. On the video, Cloud is parking the Fenrir – for the last time – while Vincent is already inserting the code into the reinforced door.

"Good," Reeve murmurs and turns back to the data, shifting a bit as he feels Cait Sith climbing up his side and to his shoulder, where the robot hugs his neck with its legs – reading his expressions and body language, and instantly moving to comfort him like its programming commands it. Not that it helps much.

There's not much comfort to be had, when he _knows_ that in a short while – a very short while, most likely not even an hour – he would cease being. And not just him but everyone he knows, the world he lives in, the universe he is part of – all of it would simply cease existing. And it would be mainly his fault.

"Are we ready?" Rude asks, looking at him seriously.

"We're ready," Reeve promises, but can't help doing some last check-ups, to make sure that everything was as it should be, that the power levels held, that the Materia was calibrated just so. Nothing can be wrong with this, not even the smallest thing. If it does, it would be over and for nothing. Everything must be right. Everything must be _perfect_.

A door hisses open and then shut, and activity in the room ceases. A bit reluctantly, Reeve looks up from the computer screen and to those who had entered – Cloud at the head, as always, and Vincent coming up as a looming shadow just behind him, almost near enough to seem insubordinate, but not quite. They look as they always do, Cloud the same as he has been for years now, in his dark clothing, perfectly suited for a traveller, and Vincent in his red cape, never changing. But they look different too.

Cloud looks different.

"Vincent tells me we're ready," Cloud says quietly, looking over the room with _that_ look that Reeve has never been able to put a word to. Cloud had had it even before he had changed, back when he had been an Alpha – the strange mixture of indifference and confusion. Because he sees the way people look at him, back then and now even more, look up to him, and he still doesn't completely comprehend it. Can't wrap his mind around it.

For some reason, that's always made him seem more powerful than anything else in him does, not his physical strength, not his fondness for massive swords. That confused look, unaware of his strength, brings it home every time. And Reeve knows he's not the only one affected by it – everyone else in the room is, the haphazard crew of what few scientists there are left on the Planet, and those of _them_ who still live. Those of the people who had, once upon a time, looked up to Cloud as an Alpha.

There's not many of them, though. Yuffie is gone. She had fallen ill a year or so ago, and not recovered. Tifa is there, but she's not the same since Denzel's and Marlene's deaths, and now sits in the corner, silently watching, not taking part. Barret, though alive, had wanted nothing to do with the project, and so he is not here, and no one knows where he is. Nanaki is still in CosmoCanyon, the last place still the _same_ as before, though possibly only because the desert canyons had never been teeming with greenery in the first place. Cid stands not far from Tifa, as silent as she is – he had said his curses, probably, and felt that there wasn't really any room for more.

There are others too. Rude, but no Reno – no one knows what happened to him, or to Rufus, or Tseng, or any of the other Turks, they are simply gone now. Some other scattered people from ShinRa, a few old friends, a few old enemies. All working together, because it's the last thing they can do. The last thing anyone can do.

Idly, the former head of what had once been ShinRa's Urban Development wonders. What are their rankings now, what is the hierarchy? Cloud hasn't been theirs or anybody's Alpha in a long while, but Cloud is still… their superior, their dominant, the one they turn to. And Vincent, though an Alpha now, still defers to Cloud. Did that make Tifa the beta now? Or the gamma? Where did Rude fit in? What was Cid? What was _Reeve_? Did he even want to know?

"We're ready," Reeve promises, his fingers twitching towards the keyboard one last time, for one last check up, but… no, they are ready; there is nothing more to be done. "Are you?" he asks, the words coming out choked. It's _extremely_ difficult to question Cloud.

The blond man looks away from him, towards the _pattern_. There is no other name for the doomsday device Reeve had concocted from bits and pieces of bastard sciences, things ShinRa had once experimented with, things that came from long before ShinRa, from the old governments and their projects, from the kingdoms before, from the ancients. It is an ugly mess of Materia, Mako and technology, lines drawn in the metal floor with orbs of Materia glowing here and there, with trickles of Mako shimmering in between.

It would be their last resort.

And their death.

"Cloud," Vincent says, not quite a question but questioning all the same.

"I'm ready," Cloud answers with a sigh. "We've certainly prepared for this long enough," he adds in an almost surly mutter that from anyone else might've been amusing. It wasn't and it hadn't been amusing for Reeve to teach him all the knowledge he needed to possess to do what was necessary. It was just… very, very hard to teach someone so much more superior to him; and so hard not to stumble into stuttering and incoherent babbling under Cloud's slightest of frowns and pointed looks.

But he has done his job as well as he could. Cloud has memorised everything – they had certainly tested his memory enough, while Reeve had still been finishing his monster that now lies on the floor, waiting for its user, for its final purpose. Everything was done, as far as it could be done.

"Then… will we begin?" Reeve asks, a bit uneasy – he doesn't want to press the button, doesn't want to pull the plug that switches off the universe. Doesn't want to be accountable, even when there'd be no one left to blame him.

"Hm," Cloud nods, looking around again. "I suppose everyone has made their peace, said their goodbyes?" he muses more than asks, but everyone nods or mumbles an affirmative answer.

"Cloud?" Tifa asks from the corner, pushing herself up as the blond man turns to her. She doesn't falter – of all of them, she's always taken Cloud's power the easiest, somehow, even if it brought her down as hard as it did everyone else. She stands straighter than she has in months, lifting her chin, looking their not-quite-an-Alpha in his eyes. "Assert. Please. And do it properly – we… deserve as much. We need it."

The blond man hesitates, frowning, glancing around. No one argues, no one looks unwilling – Reeve isn't either. It's _horrible_ and beautiful to feel Cloud's Assertion, and though Cloud does it so very rarely, he could never forget. And Tifa is right. If these are the last moments of their existence, he wants to have that feeling go with him. Not just the power or the painful awareness of it, but the tranquillity, the comfort, the _assurance_.

He needs to feel that just before everything ends, and to know what it's all _for_ – what Cloud's capable of and what he can do. What he can do, with them making this sacrifice for him, for the Planet, for the past they can't change, but Cloud can. Yes. Reeve wants that as the last thing he feels.

"Alright. If you really want it," Cloud says finally and turns to look at the only Alpha in the room, the strongest one left. "You can leave," the blond man says almost softly and Vincent jolts just slightly, scowling.

Reeve doesn't envy the gunman for the words, for whatever it is that makes Cloud offer and Vincent look so uncomfortable. Reeve himself had never been much of an Alpha, even as the head of his department he hadn't been more than a low level Alpha, barely above a beta, only in his position due to his knowledge and skill, not his power. Nothing like Vincent, who is strong, immortal, and immensely powerful – and who, like all truly powerful Alphas, can't endure Cloud's power easily.

"I'll stay," Vincent says finally, while those who had been seated by their computers or the few empty tables in the hall stand up, stepping clear from the furniture. Reeve does the same, lifting Cait Sith – the last one of a long line of them – from his shoulders and dropping it to the table. Cloud watches them all, his gaze powerful as he takes them in, the ragged people who still somehow had managed to scrounge up enough strength to perform this last miracle – this last act of pure desperation.

Then, feather soft, Cloud orders them, " _Kneel_."

And they all go down, some with sobs like Tifa, others with sighs like Rude, and Vincent with a barely smothered growl. Reeve goes down without a sound like a puppet with his strings cut off – and like always, the sensation is beyond explanation. It feels like someone had cut off his legs and short-circuited his nervous system. His legs just turn numb and give in, the biological imperative taking over his whole body for that one, crucial moment – and then his knees hit the metal floor with the all too familiar bang that leaves behind bruises and aches.

It's nothing compared to the sensation that follows, the peace that comes over him, and for a moment there is nothing but him on his knees and Cloud, looking down on him with satisfaction. Rationally, he knows that Cloud probably isn't looking at him – Cloud rarely looks at people when he Asserts – but it feels like that. Feels like he has done what he ought, pleased his not-quite-an-Alpha, and the pleasure of having followed the order so promptly leaves his mind empty and sweetly quiet. This is right – it's right to let go of everything, because his not-quite-an-Alpha is there, looking over him, and he has to do nothing but submit to that controlling, protecting power.

Cloud holds them down with his order for a while – how long, Reeve doesn't know. He drifts in the mindlessness of it – Cloud Asserts like nobody ever has, leaving nothing behind but the sweet, sweet submission, and Reeve greedily revels in the lack of control. Things have been so hectic, so horrible, so full of desperation, that letting go is unspeakably beautiful. He had been thinking so much. Planning and worrying, fretting and panicking. And now… nothing, but the urge to wait and obey.

For a while, he wishes he would never have to come out of it.

Then, almost remorsefully, Cloud orders them again. "Get up. It's time to get to work."

And they get up, shaking and shivering and wavering, dazed and half intoxicated. It takes a moment for Reeve to figure out how to use his hands again, and then reality comes back and he turns to the computer, helplessly following the order, knowing it would be the last one he ever got.

It is time to get to work.

 

* * *

 

 

It's a quiet day, in more ways than one. Aerith, standing at the edge of the tiny field of flowers she has spent what seems like years – and no time at all – cultivating, listens to the silence. It's around her and more than that it's in her head, the voices of Gaia being quiet and waiting. Anticipating.

Something is coming.

It's not something dangerous though, or the Planet would've told her. No, it's just something a little unknown, something that makes Gaia a bit uncertain – because it's not sure how it's possible, how it can be possible. But it's good, somehow? Good, with the tiniest hint of it perhaps being bad. Unknown and vague, but there, certain – and certainly coming. Coming towards her even.

She sighs, and sits down, knees bent, hugging them. She knows what she is and what she can do, and usually it's good. She can do things – make flowers grow where they couldn't before, heal wounds that others can't, do magic that people just aren't able to. And she can sense people before they come, meetings before they happen – she can follow the people she has met to the end of the Planet, sometimes even people she’s never met. Her mother's husband, for one – they had never seen each other, never so much as glanced each other's way, but she had known him. Known him, followed him, and felt him pass away.

Most of the time, she wishes she was normal, yes, but she knows her powers and is glad of them. They kept her safe, they kept her ahead of the things after her – even if they aren't after her actively, they are still there and she needs to protect herself _somehow_. In that, the powers are good.

But this? This something that's coming, something Gaia can't quite understand, this… thing that's fast approaching. She's scared a bit, because she knows why – it's coming because it knows her somehow. Gaia knows that much, knows that the something knows _her_ and is coming _for her_ because it knows her. And the last time that had happened, while she hadn't been aware of it at the time, too young to understand… she and her birth mother had ended up in ShinRa's grasp for years.

Will this something capture her? She doesn't know. Gaia can't tell, but it's not afraid, not really. Of course it wouldn't be – it's the Planet, it has very little to fear – but it's not afraid for _her_. It reassures her a bit, but not enough. Not enough at all.

There is a clang as the doors are pushed open, and then footsteps. It's here, behind her – and Aerith can feel it now, too. The oddness, the strangeness, the power. She doesn't want to turn around, too afraid – maybe if she doesn't look, it'll go away? But it's there, coming closer. Coming to her.

"Hello?"

That makes her tense a bit, her heart skip a beat – but not because of fear. The voice is a surprise. It's a soft voice – a man's, no, maybe a boy's? Not rough in the slightest – soft, kind, and uncertain. Not scary at all.

She turns and blinks. There is a boy standing behind her, younger than her – fourteen, or maybe fifteen? Wearing a sky blue jumper and ragged jeans, carrying a bag on his shoulder, no weapons whatsoever. He's smaller than her, with wild blond hair and bright blue eyes and a look about his face that doesn't match the _power_ he seems to radiate.

"Hello?" she answers, uncertain, and relaxes a bit as he smiles. Whatever he is, he's not unkind. That eases her a bit, but not entirely. "What… what can I do for you?" Aerith asks, wanting to be polite, but also wanting to know.

The boy hesitates, turning away from her and to the flowers. He bites his lip, looks so _normal_ that she almost doubts what she's feeling, but then he asks, "Do you know me?" and the feeling of unease rushes back.

"Well… no. But I feel you," she answers, shifting where she sits, wishing she was on the other side of the pool of flowers. "You are… special. Strong."

"Ah," the boy answers, and crouches down. "Hope I don't frighten you."

"You do, a bit," Aerith admits and then, after looking at him closely for a moment, adds softly, "Gaia doesn't know what to make of you."

"I suppose she wouldn't," he answers a bit amusedly, a bit sadly, and looks at the flowers. "What is she saying about me?"

"She?" Aerith wonders at that. A feminine pronoun for a planet. She's never thought of it. Does it fit? Maybe. "She's… not saying anything. She's just aware. Wondering. A bit uncertain."

"Could you ask her?" the boy inquires, glancing at her. "Ask her what I am?"

"You don't know?" Aerith asks, turning to face him completely now. That surprises her a bit – and eases her mind. Is he like her, in some way? With a power he's aware of, which makes him aware of things, but which he doesn't completely understand?

"I know what I am, what I can do. I've been this way a while. I just don't know if it's on… purpose," the boy admits. "It came about so suddenly, and I never got a straight answer from anyone. No one knew, I guess. I was wondering if Gaia knows."

Aerith nods slowly and then, after a moment of consideration, clasps her hands together, closing her eyes. She doesn't do it often, because it leaves her feeling like she's floating and somehow disembodied, but she does it now, reaching for the Planet, for that part inside herself and below her feet that connects her to it – that bit of power that pulses somewhere in her heart and mind, that makes her part of the ground beneath her feet.

Does the Planet know?

Yes. No. It does but it's not possible – hasn't happened, cannot happen, but it did, somehow, somewhere. There is a way, a moment, a fight – a victory over something – that makes a being like this man, this boy. But it hasn't happened. Not here? Not now or in the past. Perhaps… perhaps…

Aerith frowns, as the voices of the Planet grow more incoherent – the Ancients who still retain their minds enough to actually speak to her. They only have one thing to say though, one word that they speak, whisper, scream and sing somewhere just below her hearing – and Gaia agrees with them. That is it. It is impossible. Not now, not then, but it has happened _somehow_ somewhere in time.

"You are… you were victorious and because of that you are different now," Aerith says finally, opening her eyes. "You defeated something and this is the result. You are… the Ultima."

The boy frowns at that, but doesn't seem surprised. "I figured that was it. That was when it started, and it was the theory people believed the most," he murmured. "Defeat the strongest life form on the Planet, and take its place," he says and stands up. "Thank you. It's good to have a name for it."

"But you didn't defeat it," Aerith says, unable to help herself. "It is still there, isn't it? It's still alive."

"Here, yeah," the boy agrees. "I was kind of hoping that maybe because of that, I would go back to the way I was. It would've ruined everything but I… sometimes I wish I could be that person still." He shakes his head and smiles at her. "I'll be going now. Shouldn't have come anyway."

"Already? I don't even know your name," Aerith says, hesitant.

"You shouldn't either," the boy agrees. "Might get you in trouble. Best you forget I was here," he adds, turning to leave and then hesitating. "Though… could I have a flower, before I go?" he asks. "I kind of miss them."

She blinks at that, confused – almost comprehending, because he's not actually doing much to hide it, whatever it is, but… no. She's not meant to understand. Not understanding will protect her. Shaking her head, Aerith turns to the flowers, picks one of them – a small one, but with a brilliantly white blossom – and snaps the stem. He accepts it with a grave smile, holding it gently like it was something impossibly precious.

"Thank you," he says, turning to leave.

"Your power," she says before he's at the doors. "What is it?"

He pauses and then chuckles. "I forgot," he murmurs, turning to look at her over his shoulder. "You don't fall under it, do you, being an Ancient? You are lucky, you know, not having the instincts."

She shifts, uneasy. Is that it? That, the thing that makes people so strange to her somehow – that thing which she somehow can't be a part of. The thing that makes her mother kneel in front of her boss, and the people in the slums fight to become stronger so that no one can force them down, only managing to fall down faster most of the time. The ancient, somehow bestial instincts that _humans_ have, but she as an Ancient can't even pretend to understand.

"You should do better to hide it, though. People notice these things," the boy says. "You need to pretend. If I can do it, so can you."

She frowns and nods. She knows that – and she tries, her mother teaches her more about submission and dominance each day. It doesn't come naturally for her, but she's learning and she can convince most people. The rest… she can avoid. "What does the Ultima do?" Aerith whispers, a bit worried now.

"Makes the world kneel," the boy says with a shake of his head, and walks out of the church without another word.

 

* * *

 

 

Kunsel waits in the training room, having arrived a few minutes early to give himself time to mentally prepare. He still isn't entirely sure what he's doing here, or why he has been given the position of a trainer – it would've made much more sense if they had given it to someone like Zack, or better yet, someone at a higher level, but then… it isn't like the Firsts had time for something like training cadets. And he is, despite his ranking, one of the more knowledgeable Second Class SOLDIERs.

And Gaia, he has no idea what he's doing. Zack, he thinks with something like a mixture of dismay and horror, would've had a blast with something like this. Zack would've been perfect at this. That guy is a natural leader and a people person to boot, and could easily shake off the actual hierarchy to take over something like the position of a trainer, but Kunsel? He is a bit more introverted, not to mention that he's spend most of his life as a gamma, and quite happily so.

There is a sound of a mechanical door hissing open and then shut and the Second Class SOLDIER looks up. The first of the cadets entered in a group of three – and he can already tell these are at the top of the list, though time would tell whether they'd be Alphas or betas.

The potential Alphas are easy to tell – they are the confident, often arrogant lot who flexed their muscles and tended to become the ringleaders of their groups, so one can figure them out just by the way they walk – swagger – into a room. The potential betas follow closely behind them, in step with them to partake in their confidence and show of strength but trying not to appear so – keeping themselves as close, trustworthy shadows. The rest are harder to tell.

None of it matters one jot in SOLDIER, of course. What can make a natural born Alpha in a normal sort of group can very well end up being just an omega in SOLDIER, where the Shifts are more dramatic and so are the changes in hierarchy. Someone completely unnoticeable and weak can go to being the strongest of his group in a matter of days – and vice versa. Especially so when you take Mako injections into account.

Up until that point they _all_ will seem like Alphas to the un-enhanced.

Of course, it's all trickier than that, Kunsel muses and considers those who've arrived so far – strong boys, confident and proud, clustered in a group with the potential Alphas standing closest to him, the rest falling behind. Normally, SOLDIER only gets the potential Alphas and betas, because normally no one lower than that in their former social hierarchies even try to make the attempt of becoming a SOLDIER. But even when you put a lot of Alphas and betas together, they start falling into line and gammas and deltas start to show in their midst – and, unavoidably, the omega.

He can't see an omega quite yet, though. One epsilon, maybe, one boy who is talking to someone who Kunsel already can tell will fall in rank somewhere behind a beta, but no one who shows the usual signs of an omega.

Well, that would follow.

As the minutes trickle by, the rest of the boys arrive until they're all there – twenty four in total, those who passed that year's SOLDIER exam. As Kunsel glances at the clock hanging over the entrance and calls "Attention!" and they form a haphazard, but tale telling line – from the tallest boy to the shortest one, with the tallest ones on the right side and the shorter ones on the left. It makes him smile – it's such a _civilian_ thing to do. He still remembers his own cadet days, they used to do that too – up until the point one of the shortest guys somehow started lifting twice as much as everyone else on the bench, and one of the biggest ones turned out to have absolutely no body coordination whatsoever.

Height meant very little, if one didn't have the strength to back it up.

"Well then. I am Kunsel Second Class, and I will be your training Alpha during your SOLDIER preparation," Kunsel started, clasping his hands behind his back to appear relaxed – mental play, mostly. You don't claim to be an Alpha and then show your bare hands to a bunch of hormonal teenagers, most of whom would likely see it as a challenge. "That means that not a single one of you is an Alpha anymore," he adds, to gauge the reactions.

The words have an impact, and a few of the biggest boys frown, one of them grumbling slightly. They make no further noise or move forward though, and he has to credit them for that. Hormonal teenagers or no, they knew what even a SOLDIER Second Class could do. Good.

"You will be divided into four groups of six for your basic training," he explains after being certain that no one will make any fuss about his claim for now. "And you will remain in these groups until you either become a SOLDIER or leave the program. The ranks within the groups will start at beta, who will be the commander of the group – with the ranks of gamma, delta, epsilon, zeta and lastly omega to follow."

That, he notes with some displeasure, does bring about some noise. There are grins, and a few glance towards the shorter boys, leering while some of the shorter boys flinch reflexively. Again, civilian behaviour – but this one is not good. There are a few boys among the group who stay impassive and don't bat an eye, and he will keep an eye on those – they’re the ones who have prior knowledge of the program's ways. But the rest…

"The groups will be ranked by performance," he continues, wondering how to word the facts to these hot headed kids before they got any notions. "Both by general and personal performance. That means everyone in the group must perform well, including the omega. And if a group itself is responsible for an omega's failure, the group will be disqualified." He trails away, narrowing his eyes. It's not getting through, and probably wouldn't so easily. "Also, for your information: when Commander Rhapsodos was a cadet, he started out as an omega," he added, wondering if that would make any difference.

It makes some, but not the one he was hoping for. The stronger kids glance at the weaker ones and scoff at them, like the idea that any one of them could become an Alpha like the Commander was absurd.

Kunsel smothers the urge to sigh, really wishing someone else would've been made the trainer. He already has a bad feeling about the whole thing.

"Alright," he says. "Each group will be instructed individually later on, according to their training schedules. You will have other trainers and you will work under other Alphas, but I am _your_ Alpha while you're in training," he says, putting a bit more force into the words than he has so far. "So if you need something, if you have something to ask, if one of you breaks another's jaw, you will come to _me_ first. Understood?"

Some mumbles and Kunsel scowls – something which is mostly invisible beneath his helmet but the line of his lips ought to do the trick. "When an Alpha asks you a question, you answer with _Yes, Alpha_ or _No, Alpha_. Is that understood?" he asks, growling the question out in a slightly harder tone.

"Yes, Alpha," the answer comes out a bit haphazard but time and some physical training would take care of that – as well as the eventual struggles where he'd be forced to wrestle someone to the ground. Something which he isn't much looking forward to, but he'd be prepared once the time came.

"Now," he says, clasping his hands. "Starting from the right side. Assert."

The boys pause at that, staring up at him with wide eyes before glancing at each other in confusion. Kunsel almost smiles at that – these guys probably have never Asserted before an authority figure before. "One by one, starting from the tallest, Assert," he says slowly. "You _do_ know what Assertion means, right?"

That makes them stand up straighter in embarrassment, and do what they’re told. The tallest boy straightens up a bit further, squares his shoulders, takes a breath and tries – oh, he tries so hard, it's almost cute – to make his voice low and commanding as he barks out the age old order to " _Kneel_!"

The result is pretty much as Kunsel had expected. The majority of the boys go down, some falling to their knees pretty fast, others struggling as they go down, trying to fight the instinct to obey. The SOLDIER watches the reactions, both from those who do not kneel, those who do, and of course the boy who had made the command – the boy grins, but not happily as he realises that he's not the strongest of the group, that he couldn't make all of them go down.

"Everybody up," Kunsel commands, putting just enough authority into his voice so that it overrules the boy's Assertion. "Those who didn't kneel, go to the right," he says, pointing, and the line shifts accordingly, leaving the boy who had been the rightmost one as the fourth in rank. It doesn't make him happy, but that's the way of things. "Now, the rightmost one, Assert."

And they do. One by one they Assert their power over each other, and Kunsel shifts the line as they do, arranging them by strength from right to left. The neat civilian line vanishes and turns more haphazard – leaving behind the notions of height being an indication of strength, as one of the shortest boys gets the fifth rank, and one of the tallest ends up as seventeenth. The process continues until there is only one boy left – a small slip of a youth with spiky blond hair and wide blue eyes, who had so far knelt for everybody.

"You don't have to try," Kunsel says to the boy, who had been standing in rigid nervous attention after the last Assertion which had only worked on him, and who instantly relaxes at the chance to avoid embarrassment – and there isn't embarrassment quite like ordering someone to kneel and having nobody submit. The allowance makes some of the boys grin and snicker towards the ultimate omega of the group, but the blond boy doesn't seem to be listening.

Hadn't he been one of the boys who hadn't reacted to the mention of omegas…? He hadn't batted an eye at Kunsel's original command to Assert either. Must be well informed about the SOLDIER program.

"Okay. Now, every fourth of you go over there, every third of those remaining over there, and every other of those remaining over there," Kunsel orders and watches as the boys awkwardly split apart, first the fourths, then the thirds and then the last ones split apart until there are four groups of six boys.

"These," he says. "Are your groups. You will be sharing a room, you will be eating together, you will be working together, studying and learning together and if you're _good_ enough, some of you might even become SOLDIERs together," he says, as the boys look at each other thoughtfully. "And _every single morning_ you will Assert."

He looks at them and then smiles. "Welcome to SOLDIER basic training," he says and watches, waiting until the boys relax a bit and let down their guards before unclasping his hands and resting his hands on his hips instead. "Now, _kneel!_ " he orders, putting as much authority and force into the order as he can.

They all go down instantly, the new leaders of the new groups looking wide eyed as they too crash to the floor, most of them wincing at the impact, a few looking horrified at the force of the command. Kunsel smiles. Not bad, for a lifelong gamma.

 

* * *

 

 

It isn't until morning that Tseng hears about the break-in at ShinRa HQ's records department. Normally, he wouldn't have heard of it at all – someone at a much lower level would've looked into it, probably dismissed it as unimportant as there’s nothing particularly valuable in the records department, just old documents and even older computers that are mostly open for everybody in the building. But there is something about this particular break-in that catches the attention of his gamma, making him wake the beta of Turks at entirely too early an hour to view the tapes.

"What, precisely, am I looking at?" Tseng asks, staring at the screen of his terminal while Reno fiddles with the mouse, to get the surveillance tape to the right moment.

"The security cam from level 45, boss," the redhead says with a frown and makes a sound of satisfaction as he reaches the right point. "This happened around two a.m. and yeah, normally I wouldn't give a damn – everyone's always breaking into places like these at ShinRa, just last week it was this janitor and one of the secretaries and damn I wish I hadn't seen that tape, but anyway…"

He hits play, and Tseng watches. It is an overhead view of the older records room, an empty hall with a few computers lining the wall and the rest of the space taken by cabinets. Twenty second pass by in the flicker of the night lamps, before the closed doors in the image roll open, revealing a slim, dark clad figure who walks right in. Tseng's eyes narrow, and he reaches for the mouse, to enlarge the picture in the hopes of catching a better view of the details, but the picture only gets blurrier the larger it becomes.

"Whoever it is, he's wearing a mask," Reno says, utterly unhelpful.

"I can see that," Tseng answers and they keep watching. The slim figure checks the room quickly with a few expert glances before moving to one of the computers and turning it on. The picture is too small, too blurry, to see what he's doing as he sits down and begins to do _something_ , they can only see the screen flashing in vague colours, white, green, black, and how the figure types away.

"How long was he working there?" Tseng asks, leaning back while Reno pauses the video. He keeps his mind blank, knowing this wasn't all of it, and not wanting to draw any flawed conclusions before he had all the facts. Reno wouldn't be bothering him about someone just using a computer in the middle of the night if there wasn't more.

"Three hours in total," the redhead says, moving the timeline of the video ahead again until he reaches the point where the figure leaves. He goes back a bit, and then lets the video play at a normal pace.

On the screen, the dark clad figure finishes and then pulls out a PHS from his pocket, hooking it to the computer with a short cable, probably transferring data from or to the computer, it's impossible to tell. Whatever he's doing, it's finished quickly and the figure flips the phone shut, pocketing it again before turning back to the computer. A minute or so later, he's finished doing whatever he was doing, and is standing up, the computer shutting down as the figure heads for the hallway.

"There's no hallway camera and whoever this is he didn't use the elevator – so he pretty much vanishes right there. Could've gone anywhere, if he was using the stairs," Reno says, backtracking the video and leaving it frozen on the image of the figure leaving, black clad and utterly unrecognizable except for the diminutive size.

"Alright. What was he doing then?" Tseng asks, turning to the redhead, knowing he must've had the computer searched.

"Impossible to tell. That computer's totally wiped. I went there as fast as I could but the computer was totally shot. It doesn't even have an operating system left anymore, We can get nothing useful out of it, not to mention trying to get our hands on the logs," Reno scoffs, folding his arms. "After I figured that, I thought you ought to see this. Because you don't do something like that unless it's something serious."

"No, you don't," Tseng agrees, eyeing the screen. The figure doesn't seem like he could belong in AVALANCHE, the clothing is completely wrong, as is the method of operation. AVALANCHE is bad at spying and intelligence gathering – they would've stormed the room with a good number of men, if they had wanted something from it. Though if they had ever managed to get into ShinRa HQ, they wouldn't have bothered with the _archives_. They would've gone after the President, the science department, possibly the Weapons Development floors…

"Any indication of where he came from?" Tseng asks. "How did he get in?"

"Sorry boss. It's almost like he pops in and out of existence right there. And like he knew the locations of the cameras, and could avoid them – used the stairwell rather than the elevator because there are no cameras there. And from there he could've gone anywhere."

"So. Someone walked in, took something from the old archives, walked out and no one even noticed until this morning, and we have no idea what he was doing? Why were you looking at the surveillance tapes anyway?" Tseng asks, raising an eyebrow. Reno normally wouldn't bother with something like that.

"I know a guy who works at the security booth, he noticed it around morning, and called me," the redhead shrugs.

"I see. Do you know what he could've gotten from the computer?" Tseng asked, not entirely sure what sort of access the archive terminals had to the database. The archives themselves – at least those in that particular room – couldn't be anything useful, they were mostly from the time before ShinRa and the intruder hadn't even glanced at them anyway. So, something on the computer.

"I got no idea, boss. I've been going through the stuff you can do with those things and it's not much. They're so low tech that no one even makes them anymore, and most of the time they don't even work – all the stuff in them is old, half corrupted, mostly forgotten and no one cares about it. Old documents about stuff no one remembers anymore," Reno shrugs. "A bit about the old database, from back before HQ. Some old projects, mostly construction work that never got completed. A ton of ancient photographs and stuff like that. Nothing really interesting – it doesn't even have ShinRa's blueprints or anything."

"There must be something. Either there was, or someone put it there for the intruder to find," Tseng says, considering the matter, though that doesn't make much sense. If there is a spy in ShinRa – and there are several most likely – they wouldn't leave whatever intel they gathered on a ShinRa computer if they wanted to pass it on, or sell it – they'd take it out of the building. No, it was something in the computer the intruder had wanted. But that couldn't be it, not if the intruder had worked at it for three hours. But what?

"Can't tell anymore which it was, or if it was either. It's all gone," Reno answers and looks at him. "You gonna tell Alpha?"

Tseng considers it, eyeing the screen. It is peculiar, and there are warning signs – the intruder had gone to certain lengths that indicate certain sorts of intentions. But what could there be on a computer like that; ancient and probably never used, there shouldn't be anything… nothing that would truly threaten the company.

"No, for now this isn't high enough priority," he finally says. Veld would only tell him to keep his eyes open for more of the same, and he could figure that out for himself. "Look into what can only be done on those old computers," the beta orders the redhead, turning away from his own terminal. "Whoever this intruder is, he must've gone after that archive computer for a reason – no one breaks into ShinRa just to use a computer when there are many easier ways to access machinery like that. It must be something about that computer especially which interested him. Something that was in it and something that could be done with it; otherwise he would've just taken what he was after and completed his work elsewhere."

"You're thinking about some old program, maybe?" the gamma asks, easily falling behind his decision not to inform their Alpha just yet and only considering the matter at hand. "Something our modern toys don't have anymore?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Just look into it," Tseng says and stands up. "And see about adding a camera to the stairwell, at least at the first floor entrance."

"Will do, boss."


	2. Chapter 2

 "So, how are they?" Luxiere asks curiously, while he and Kunsel watch the newest batch of cadets wander around the gym, all of them unaware that the big mirror on the side was rather see-through from the other side. "You've been working them for a week now, right?"

"About a week, yeah," Kunsel snorts softly, shaking his head. "It's a pain in the ass, most of them are _such_ civilians… but they're shaping up, I guess."

Glancing at his friend, Luxiere grins slightly and then turns back to look at the newbies. He can see the groups already – most of them anyway, those who have pulled together under their beta leaders. They stay together in the big gym, working the same machines, following their leader, keeping out of the way of the other groups. Two of them, though, haven't yet fallen into a pattern and judging by the looks of it, the betas of the groups are posturing. They face each other near the middle of the room, throwing comments and puffing their chests – one of them has the backing of what looks like his gamma and delta behind him, while the other has none and the rest are trying to avoid conflict.

Typical newbie behaviour – it had been the exact same back when he had been on the other side of the glass. He had been lucky to have a group with a strong leader, though – even if not as lucky as Kunsel. He had been a cadet with _Zack_ after all, and the gamma to Zack's beta.

"They're starting to figure things out," Kunsel says, rubbing his neck. "And after I threw the beta of the second group into a wall for abusing their omega, they've been watching their actions a bit more closely."

"You did? Doesn't seem like you, man," Luxiere notes, raising his eyebrows a bit behind his helmet visor. Kunsel has never been particularly violent – natural gammas rarely were. To hear that he had done something to someone of lower rank than him…

"The kid had a bruised rib after the beating he got," Kunsel says darkly. "So I gave the beta a bruised rib too. Seems to have taught him a lesson – that's his group over there," he adds, nodding at one of the more peaceful groups, who are working at the weights. "Hasn't made a peep since, though Gaia knows how long that will last."

"And the other group?" Luxiere asks, looking at the ones who are all, to a man – or boy, really, none of them is older than sixteen – running on treadmills. "I bet that's group one." The first groups usually tended to fall in line the soonest, having the strongest beta in the beginning and so the most to prove – and of course, relative to the other groups, group one always start out as the strongest.

"That's group four actually," Kunsel answers, making him glance at him in surprise. The other Second shrugs. "They've been like that since the beginning. There wasn't any posturing whatsoever."

"None?" Luxiere asks, and turns to look at the group more closely. Fourth group is usually the most chaotic one, being the weakest and thus the lowest in rank, and therefore the most disappointed. It is a bit… unusual for them to be so calm, isn't it? "Who's the beta?"

"The black haired kid, with the eyebrows."

Luxiere grins at that a bit – and they are some eyebrows too, all jagged like lightning bolts. "He doesn't look like much," he muses, considering. Compared to the other betas he is tall, but that's about it – he doesn't have the bulk of the other betas. And it doesn't seem like he is doing much to watch over his group either – if anything, the guy is ignoring them as he is running on his treadmill.

"I actually expected the worst of him." Kunsel admits. "He was the first who Asserted, being the tallest, and he didn't seem all that happy about not being the strongest, but… I don't know. The next morning they just fell in line. And look at their omega."

Luxiere glances over the group. "The blond kid?" he guessed.

"That's the one."

Luxiere looks, and at first he doesn't see what his friend means. The kid is working at his treadmill just like the rest, jogging at an even pace, panting slightly – doesn't have much stamina yet, or strength in his legs, that much is obvious. "I don't see it," Luxiere says after a while, not getting what Kunsel meant. The kid is going the slowest, leaning onto the handlebar slightly, isn't looking at anyone else, or doing anything special. Nothing remarkable there.

"No, I mean _look_ at him," Kunsel says, waving a hand, and Luxiere looks a bit closer. And then a bit closer still, narrowing his eyes and eventually flipping the visor up so that he can see unhindered by the metal grating.

Then he sees it. The line of the kid's back, his shoulders, his hands, his hips. He's running straight backed with his head up and chin level, the hand he isn't using to lean on moves with easy freedom in balancing him, stretching out – utterly unashamed despite his slight stumbling. An omega would've ran slumped, arms tugged at his side, head bowed, probably glancing around to see if anyone was watching him – or judging him.

"So, he probably hasn't been an omega before," Luxiere shrugs. "Hasn't sunken in yet."

"It should've – it's been a _week_ already," Kunsel argues. "And if it hadn't, then his group should've tried to beat it into him. That kid is showing no submission whatsoever. I've never seen him as much as bow his head – and his group doesn't care. Not even the zeta seems to mind and usually zetas are the worst of the bunch when it comes to omegas."

Luxiere frowns, glancing at him. "And he _is_ the omega?" he asks, just to be sure.

"Kneels every time and to everyone," the trainer of the cadets answers, arms folded and frowning. "And he's never Asserted. Everyone makes him kneel, so it's never gotten to the point where he's gotten the chance to try, but I'm pretty sure he hasn't tried during their free time either."

That makes the other Second Class blink. "Never? He hasn't even tried?" he asks, glancing at the group and leaning back a bit. "Do you think…?"

"Yeah," Kunsel agrees. "I think that kid might be faking it. I have no idea why or what rank he really is, but he's _pretending_ to be an omega."

Luxiere opens his mouth, closes it and then opens it again. "Pretending to be an omega?" he asks in disbelief. "People do that? Hell, people _can_ do that?" He has heard of people pretending to be higher than their actual rank, that happens all the time even in SOLDIER – or maybe especially in SOLDIER. But pretending to be lower rank? And an _omega_? Who the hell would want to pretend to be an omega?

"I think he is," Kunsel answers, nodding at the kid. "I don't know why or how – and he is obviously the weakest of the bunch, his records in the gym so far all confirm it. But he is _not_ an omega – and for some reason, his group doesn't seem to care."

"You gotta make him Assert, man," Luxiere says, considering the kid again. "Whatever the reason, he'll only end up doing harm to his own career by pretending to be weaker."

Kunsel hums in answer and then the line of his lips turns thin. "There's something else though," he says and turns to Luxiere. "Have you ever knelt to someone below delta? I mean, really. Have you _ever_ knelt for someone weaker than you?"

"No. Why would I?" Luxiere asks blankly. Why would anybody?

"Okay. Let me rephrase that. _Could_ you kneel for someone weaker than you? Could you actually make yourself go down for someone you knew you could beat?" Kunsel asks and shakes his head. "I know I couldn't. I just wouldn't be able to," he answers his own question and then points at the cadets. "That kid isn't the omega of his group, which makes him stronger than at least one of them and thus stronger than all the other omegas there. But he… he kneels for _everybody_."

"Oh," Luxiere answers, as he gets the point. "So, he is an omega after all?"

"I don't know," Kunsel answers, biting his lip in concentration. "I have no idea. He doesn't read like an omega, doesn't act like an omega, but…" he shakes his head. "And why would anyone come into SOLDIER and then knowingly and intentionally pretend to be weak? He should be trying to do all that is in his power to seem strong. It doesn't make any sense."

"Okay. Starting to get a bit suspicious," Luxiere admits. "What are you gonna do?"

"Watch him, I guess. I could try and force him to Assert, but… there has to be a reason," Kunsel answers, folding his arms. "And I will find out what it is."

"Of course you will," Luxiere rolls his eyes before giving his friend a thoughtful look. A week as a training Alpha, and Kunsel is already a bit different – standing straighter, speaking stronger and being overall a bit more, well, assertive. Which is just as well because Kunsel's always been such a submissive and even if they _have_ to bow down to their betters even in their line of work, pure submission isn't the way to go in SOLDIER. Man has to have some iron in him.

"So," Luxiere says thoughtfully. "How are you liking it, being in charge of these guys?"

Kunsel glances at him and then relaxes a bit, losing some of his newfound training Alpha tension. "It's… different," he admits. "You always hear about it, what it's like to be an Alpha – and I've studied it a lot, I know everything there is to it as far as the academics go. But it's not the same, knowing about it and actually experiencing it. Well, it's not like I'm an actual Alpha, I'm never going to be, but acting as one… it's _different._ "

"I bet," Luxiere grins.

"I still don't see why they didn't put someone like Zack in the spot, though. He'd have a blast with this," Kunsel admits, at which Luxiere snorts.

"The position's called the _training Alpha_ for a reason, my friend," he says. "And it's not like Zack _needs_ any training to be one."

That seems to surprise the other SOLDIER Second a bit, judging by the way his mouth slackens. "Oh," the Alpha-in-training says and Luxiere grins a bit. For such an intellectual guy, so dedicated to facts and figures, it's pretty amusing how Kunsel can sometimes miss the plainly obvious.

 

* * *

 

 

Reno has a _feeling_ about this. It's a bit hard to put into words or even to explain to himself – he rarely has anything that can be called even half of a intuition, but this time he has a feeling, and it's driving him insane, waiting to see if he's right.

There's something about the break-in at the archives, into that ancient computer that's next to no use to anyone anymore, that makes his skin crawl. Something about it was _special_ , except he has no idea what because there was _nothing_ on that computer, nothing but endless amounts of absolutely useless information, programs that are next to useless and a lot of corrupted data. And yet… and yet the guy in black had gone to serious lengths to hide what he had done. Because that vanishing trick the guy had done? Not _that_ easy. ShinRa security on that floor might be lax, but it was tight as anything on most other floors, in the elevators, all the entrances – so how the hell had the man gone unnoticed on his way out?

And wiping out the computer to the point the operating system was gone. That wasn't easy. Well, it wasn't hard if you knew what you were doing – but who knew these things anymore? The computer was like thirty or forty years old! And no one uses those models anymore, not when ShinRa terminals are faster, bigger, stronger and generally better in every way. Hell, it was something of a miracle that the thing had worked long enough for the guy to break it!

So something is going on. Something weird and special – and Reno's always been good with weird and special – he _is_ weird and special. Which leaves him in the position of scouring through the security tapes and files and wondering if the guy would come back, if it had been just a fluke, a one-time thing, if the guy's objective had been achieved and if that would be it… Because it could be that the guy had just wanted access to that computer and nothing else, and they'd never hear another beep from him, as annoying as that would be.

He gives it two weeks – but it doesn't take even nearly that long. He's working on another, rather more minor breach into the database when it happens. Someone had hacked a code and stolen some dummy data, no biggy, he just needs to figure out who and from what terminal, if it's a ShinRa employee or someone else – and since he's been working on the database since the break-in at the archives and it was _his_ alert program that had caught the hacker, Tseng had decided that he was as good as anybody to take a look into it. Damn him for being so damn efficient.

Then it happens – someone hits one of the warnings in the system which he had laid out, which calls back to him, literally making his phone ring though no one's calling it. "Breach in level 38, secretarial department," the screen tells him, and he's up and running before the screen stops flashing.

He doesn't go there directly – of course not, you don't just face something like this head on, because it might not be _the_ guy, but someone else, who might have numbers and guns on their side. No, though he goes to the right level he heads for the security booth instead, ignoring the lack of a guard – they rarely have guards there, only the high security levels have regular guards – and pushing his way to the screens. It takes a minute or so of flipping through security feeds to find the right one, the right room, the right camera angle.

And there he is, the guy in black with a mask on, working at a computer – this time on live video, rather than as a recording. "Gotcha," Reno murmurs and then frowns. This time the intruder isn't alone – though the room is mostly empty, there are two people there. A middle aged woman in a neat blouse and pencil skirt, probably a workaholic who had been working late, and a male janitor who by the looks of his cart had been cleaning or maybe fixing something in the room.

They're both on the floor, kneeling with their heads bowed and hands resting on their knees.

"Interesting," Reno murmurs, making a mental note to review the video later, to see how that had happened. Threats, or is the guy high rank? He's pretty small though, the janitor is much bigger, so he figures a firearm might've been involved. He'd see it later – after he’d caught the guy.

Taking a moment to take out his kit, Reno quickly eases the industrial strength ear plugs in, before taking out a pair of headphones and putting them on, with the loudest, most obnoxious metal blaring out of them the moment he hits play. So deafened, he flips out his mirrored sunglasses and eases them on too, shifting them around until they fall into place properly. He doesn't much like wearing them, they restrict his vision when ShinRa's damn dark already, but they have their uses. Even if it feels a bit superfluous in this case. He seriously doubts the intruder is higher ranked than he is – the guy's _tiny_.

Then, quickly and efficiently, he takes out his PHS, scrolls through the automated messages until he finds the right one, and sends it. A warning to Tseng that he's taking out a target without backup, and if everything goes balls up, he'll take the blame because it was his own dumb decision to go at it alone. But there's no time for calling anyone, the guy might be finished at any moment, and really, he shouldn't have any problems with this.

The intruder's probably not even a delta compared to him. Easy for a trained Turk gamma to take down.

Reno finishes by straightening the Electro-Mag Rod and after testing to see that the charge was just right, he heads out towards the secretarial department. With the music blaring just beyond the deafening effect of the earplugs, he doesn't hear much of anything but the harsh beat of the metal, but that doesn't make him not alert. He looks around, taking in every shadow and shade, every nook and cranny, before he comes to the right door and then, as bold as anything, opens it up.

The two on the floor don't look up, staring at their knees without apparently even noticing him. Reno sees them only from the corner of his eye, his eyes trained on the slim intruder who sits across the room in front of a terminal, half hidden by the monitor. What Reno can see of him though, he quickly presses into his memory – the security feeds had been so blurry.

The clothing the guy wears is utterly nondescript – a black, rather tight jacket. You could get those everywhere. Nearly skin tight leather gloves, probably uncomfortably tight but necessary for easy typing. The mask is the least interesting of all – it's just a black cloth that fits tightly around his head, and every bit of skin from the top of his head down to the collar of his jacket.

"I don't think you're supposed to be here, yo," Reno says, not able to hear the words himself through the ear plugs and over the music, but the words make the man behind the computer shift. Grinning, Reno points the Electro-Mag at the man. "Why don't you come out here, man? Let's chat."

He can't hear what the man says – but knows that it's something damn serious. Knows, because that's when a lightning bolt runs through his spine and suddenly he's on his knees without any explanation, or any mercy. It happens so fast that it takes him a moment to realise it has, and then the Electro-Mag falls from his fingers as he's somehow forced to put his hands on his knees, and bow his head down.

Wide eyed and horrified, Reno stares at his legs in incomprehension. There is a feeling curling inside him, the tantalising urge to let go and submit which he fights tooth and nail with every bit of Turk training he has, trying to keep his mind free and alert from the numbing effect of the Assertion.

Except it shouldn't _be_ Assertion. It shouldn't be possible – he had been deafened, his eyes out of view, no one should've been able to _Assert_ him. No one below the level of a SOLDIER First Class at any rate – and yet… and yet…

The feeling is more insistent, more tempting now – just there, on the outskirts of his willpower, eating away at the edges. Oh, it would be sweet – this is so goddamn powerful, if he would just let go it would be sweeter than intoxication, than the best high he's ever had. This is nothing compared to the way Tseng Asserts, or the way Veld does it, as rarely as Reno has felt that – this is powerful, overwhelmingly commanding, and alluring, and damn it, he's falling under it…

And then he can't tell the time anymore, his body relaxing into the sweet oblivion of obedience and he drifts, drifts away under the thrall of the stronger will.

When he feels a hand on his chin, lifting it up, he nearly moans – and the fact that it's the intruder touching him only makes him want to beg for more, for another touch, _god, please_ , just to feel worth it, for the slightest bit of attention from this man, this _Alpha_ …

The headphones are removed, and the earplugs pried out. "How did you know I was here?" the intruder asks gently, running a gloved finger along Reno's cheek and making him shiver.

"Alert program in the database, for when people do something _unusual_ ," Reno pants gratefully, trying to lean in for more, thankful for the chance to be useful, to be informative, to be _something._ "Didn't think it would work."

"How do you disable it?" the intruder asks, taking off his sunglasses and pushing Reno's head back a bit, to look at his eyes maybe. It reveals more of the gamma's throat and he nearly writhes as that vulnerable spot is so revealed.

"W-with a code, entered after the ID and password," Reno groans in answer, and when the man asks he gives the code gratefully.

"Now," the intruder says. "Forget this conversation," the man orders and then, in a tone that's almost kind, "and stop breathing."

Reno's breath freezes in his lungs as he adoringly looks up to the man who wields his words with such power. The man stands up, walking to the other two and whispering some commands to them as well – and judging by how they react, shivering and leaning into the man's touch, it has the exact same effect on them too.

But then everything starts going blurry, and what little thought Reno has left starts to fade.

It doesn't take long, before the lack of air drags him under.

 

* * *

 

 

Stretching his arms lazily, Zack looks around. It had been a while since he had been on the training floor – he has forgotten what a mess the floor planning is, between the cadent quarters, the training rooms and the enormous gym that takes up a good half of the entire floor. All the more reason to hold his portion of that year's teaching sessions up on the SOLDIER floor, rather than the training floor, he muses, before catching a glimpse of a familiar stride.

"Hey, Luxiere. You seen Kunsel anywhere here?" he asks, taking a few jogging steps closer to the other Second Class SOLDIER – who, like Kunsel, is in training duty that year even if he's only a part time teacher. "He's supposed to drill me on my Materia today but he didn't show up." Which for Kunsel is pretty unusual, but Kunsel has been pretty busy since starting out as a training Alpha so Zack's willing to forgive and forget – so long as he gets his lesson.

Angeal was going to put him through a test later that week and Zack did _not_ want to let his Alpha down. A disappointed Angeal was the worst sort of Angeal there was.

"He was at the second training room, with the third cadet group," the other Second says, looking up from the PHS he had been typing with. "Disciplining them, I think."

"Disciplining? Why, what happened?" Zack asks, worried. Of course, cadets take a _lot_ of punishing to get into a proper sort of order – Gaia knows he had – but Kunsel, disciplining someone? It doesn't really seem to fit. 

"The usual," Luxiere shrugs. "Their omega ended up in the infirmary today – just a broken nose and some bruises, their zeta got out of hand I think… but Kunsel's pretty strict about the omegas."

"Yeah," Zack murmurs, remembering. When he had been a cadet beta, Kunsel had been his gamma. Their omega had been a little guy named Sinai, good with Materia but not that good with anything else. Zack had taken the whole no-abusing-omegas thing to heart – it helped that it had been Angeal who had been their not-quite-training Alpha. Kunsel hadn't, though, neither had pretty much anyone else in their group – and when Sinai had gotten beaten up and Zack had taken the disciplinary action into his own hands by beating up the delta that had done it… it had a pretty strong impact on the gamma of the group.

Kunsel has been pretty much the go-to-guy about hierarchy since – Zack isn't sure if Kunsel _ever_ stopped studying the facts and figures and history of the stuff.

But disciplinary action is a different thing. As much as he tries to, Zack just can't wrap his mind around the concept of Kunsel punishing someone. "Hm. I'm gonna go have a look. Second training room you said?" he asks and when Luxiere nods he gives the other Second a thoughtful look. "Why are you here anyway?"

"I'm going to give two of the groups some sword lessons in twenty minutes or so," Luxiere answers. "Groups two and four."

"Four?" Zack asks, blinking. "Kunsel lets group _four_ train without him there? I thought he only started out with them something like two weeks ago."

"Yeah. I know what you mean, but the fourth group is actually the most disciplined of the lot," Luxiere says, shaking his head. "Kunsel's let them fly solo since first week, even outside observation."

"Really?" Zack asks, a bit disbelieving. Usually it's group four that takes the longest time to get into order. "Huh. Must be a really good beta in that group," he murmurs and then shrugs. It wasn't always about strength, anyway. Sometimes it was about skill and personality too. The SOLDIER Firsts just prove it – Sephiroth might've been the strongest Alpha out there, but Angeal is the best one – and even Sephiroth admits it. It wasn't that weird that it happened with lower level Alphas too – or betas, in this case.

"Well, thanks anyway, and good luck teaching," Zack says, waving his hand and heading onwards, trying to remember which way the training rooms were. Thankfully, it's like riding a bike – he had spent six months in these quarters himself, so it doesn't take more than a few reminders before he can make his way through the corridors without too much trouble.

He doesn't enter the training room itself – knows better than to interrupt someone in the middle of disciplinary duties. Instead, he slips into the observation room to watch – his eyes widening a bit as he finds the group of cadets all on their faces on the floor, while Kunsel looks down on them, flexing his fingers.

"Wow," Zack murmurs, folding his arms in something like admiration. It looks rather like Kunsel had just spent some time beating the crap out of the poor guys. There are no major injuries from what he can see – or even any minor ones – but Kunsel's always been damn good at hand-to-hand. He wouldn't bother with bruises or cuts, no. Kunsel went for the nerves – and judging by the moaning and whimpering, the way the kids are clutching onto certain, rather odd spots like elbows and shoulders and necks, he had found them this time too.

Too curious to stop himself, he leans in to turn the speakers on, and Kunsel's calm, cool voice reaches the observatory, cutting like a knife. "… and again, and _again_ for as long as it takes to beat it into your heads," the training Alpha growls as he stares down on the writhing cadets. "You do not _hurt_ your omega, you do not _push_ your omega, you do not even fucking _touch_ your omega. Your whole group is in fact _dependant_ on the omega and what the omega endures _you_ endure, what the omega suffers _you suffer_ and not just that but you suffer it _tenfold_."

"Damn, Kunsel," Zack murmurs, while his friend rants and raves at the poor, downed cadets. It's a hard lesson to learn and takes hard teaching, though, he understands that much. It's an instinct to hold the omega responsible for everything, to punish the omega for every failing the whole has – because in the end, it is always the omega holding the group back. It's also always tempting to push the omega around because the omegas usually just _take it_ , and it can feel so sweet, to have someone submit like that, without a word, without a whine.

SOLDIER doesn't have any space for that particular instinct, though, because for a SOLDIER a good ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent of the population all feel like omegas. If SOLDIERs were slaves to that particular instinct, the program would turn damn tyrannical pretty damn quickly. In fact, SOLDIERs can't treat omegas with anything but perfect kindness and gentleness, because normal people _break_ so easily, physically and mentally.

So it makes sense that Kunsel would ride the kids pretty hard for those particular acts. But Zack really hadn't thought that his friend, always the calm and collected gamma, would have it in him.

It also looks like Kunsel's gonna make the lesson a long and painful one – so after a moment of watching, Zack shakes his head and slips away from the observatory, leaving the cadets to their humiliation. Even if they didn't know, they didn't need someone watching like that. He would see if Luxiere was still about, chat for a while, see if Kunsel would be finished in ten minutes or so and if not then he'd watch Luxiere's lesson maybe.

On his way there, though, he hears voices talking in hushed, low tones, and stops to listen curiously. "…your group. Acting so damn smug and mighty, the hell do you guys think you're on about?" a male voice growls and there are murmurs of annoyed agreement. "You're the freaking _fourth_ group, the worst of the lot. You know what that means? It means you're all omegas to us, and you, you're the omega of the omegas!"

Frowning, Zack sneaks closer and peers around the corner, to see a group of boys who had surrounded one small boy with spiky blond hair, who stands with his back to the wall with one of the boys looming over him.

"But you don't act like you should, trying to be all special. You especially – you're embarrassing your group, you know," the bigger boy looming over the smaller kid says, leering. "Skinny little bitch like you, acting so smooth. Hah. It's a wonder your group hasn't lynched you, but I guess they're all pussies like you and don't have the balls. So, you know what we're gonna do? We're gonna show you the right way. You're the omega of the omegas, so we're going to show you how to act like it."

The beta leans closer, his leer widening into something that's almost a grimace. "And you know what's gonna happen afterwards? The Alpha doesn't like groups beating their omegas, you know – and when he sees you, he's going to be blaming your group," he said. "Because see? We? We were on the other side of the floor, and the records prove it. And when your group gets blamed, you know what will happen? They'll be punished. And I just bet your group is going to be so happy about it. I imagine they'll be so _grateful_ to you."

Zack narrows his eyes and considers interfering. The kid's obviously an omega and the boys around him aren't from his group – and if the blond kid’s really from the fourth group, that makes him the weakest omega of the bunch. The other guys would completely destroy the kid – it's hard not to go overboard with omegas. The kid is so small too, and judging by the way he stands, he's not even trying to run or hide or even protect himself… if he wasn't doing _anything_ to defend himself now, he was going to get such a beating.

It reminds him, not that pleasantly, of some of the lessons he had gotten at Angeal's hands about the treatment of omegas. About how some omegas don't fight back even if they're about to die. No one's Assertion can make a guy just lay down and take it when their life is at risk, not really – if it did, there wouldn't be any reason for wars or SOLDIERs beyond Sephiroth, the guy could've just commanded the whole of Wutai to lay down and die and the war would be over. But of course normally it doesn't work like that – survival instincts overrule even the strongest Assertion.

Except sometimes… omegas sort of lack it. Sometimes they're just too submissive to really _mind_ dying at the hands of their betters. Which, yeah, scary as hell, but also a powerful motivator for anyone of high rank with any tendencies of sadism.

And this kid is _still_ not moving a muscle.

But… but, Zack's got nothing to do with the training of these guys and he's not their Alpha. If he steps in now, he might disturb whatever control Kunsel had Asserted over the cadets – not to mention that he'd be stepping into Kunsel's territory, and he so doesn't want to do that to his buddy. And besides, this sort of stuff is pretty much expected from the start – it always happens, and it's the punishments that follow that really bring the facts home, not preventive measures.

Zack grimaces and does nothing, watching. He'll step in if it looks like the kid's life is in danger and then report this to Kunsel later, and then Kunsel will take matters into his own hands. That was all he could do, without doing damage. But damn, he wasn't going to like it, he thought as he watched the boy in the lead order his group to hold the kid's arms so that he'd get nice, easy access.

Except… they don't follow. They move to follow, reaching for the kid's hands, but for some reason they hesitate, looking uneasy. Maybe nervous about what might happen afterwards, about the possibility that their training Alpha might find out? Zack watches, cheering the guys’ hesitation on, even while the kid in the lead – gotta be the beta of the group – growls.

"What are you doing, just hold the brat down!" he orders, but the guys don't, hesitating a bit more, looking between the omega and their own beta, uneasy. "Fine, since you're such pussies, I'll do it!" the beta snarls, pulling his hand back for a punch, aiming at the poor omega's face and then…

Nothing.

Zack leans past the corner a bit more to see. The guy's arm is frozen there, still pulled back but not even throwing a mock punch. There's an odd look on the beta's face, not hesitant but confused and then… a bit scared, for some reason, as he stares down at the blond haired kid who just _stands_ there, impassive and, yeah, relaxed. Completely relaxed, not even slightly tense or uneasy. The kid just stands there without any expression on his face.

Zack looks between the omega and the beta who takes a lurching step backwards, his arm falling from its draw. Has Kunsel really had this big an impact on these kids already? That's _fast_.

As the group stands around, looking nervous and uneasy all of a sudden, all their aggression all but evaporated, the blond kid finally moves, looking from one to another, something which makes them seem more uneasy still. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet but even, without even a hint of a tremor. "Just forget it, guys," he says. "And leave me alone."

The group seems to _quiver_ somewhere on the edge of decision, before the beta grunts. "Come on," he says, and turns to stalk away, his group all turning one by one to follow him, first uneasy but then relaxing a bit as they put some distance between themselves and the omega. None of them look backwards at the little guy they had been about to beat up, but for some reason hadn't been able to.

Zack's the only one to see the way the omega shakes his head in amusement, how he snorts, "Bitch, huh?" and then turns to head away, walking towards one of the training rooms seemingly with the whole thing all but forgotten.

"The hell?" the SOLDIER murmurs, and suddenly he's not so sure that Kunsel's leadership skills had anything to do with the whole thing.

 

* * *

 

 

"It was really fucking scary, man," Reno tells Rude later, after a lot of reports and interviews and interrogations, still shuddering at the memory even through the haze of several glasses and four pints, all of different stuff. "I've never felt an Assertion like that. I mean, seriously, I was once in Wutai, you know, a couple of months back, when Commander Genesis just entered the place. And you know how it goes, when a regiment gets a new commander – they gather everybody around into one place, and then the commander Asserts, right? And I wasn't part of the whole thing, but I had to go there too."

He shudders, and wordlessly Rude refills his glass from the bottle he had in the end ended up ordering, figuring that it'd be cheaper than ordering one shot after another.

"When a First Class Asserts, it's really something else – you just go down, you don't get to even think about it or even notice, just snap and you're down. And their power, man, it leaves you in this daze, right?" Reno trails away, eyes distant. "It was kinda like that, but so, so much worse. Assertion always takes your mind a bit, but not… not like that."

Rude says nothing, just sips his own drink while Reno downs his fifth one in one go. "Through the headphones and the glasses and all. Made me reveal company secrets," the redhead mutters, shuddering again. "And I've no idea what they were either. Can't fucking remember what he asked me or what I said. If he had asked me something serious like the President's schedule or access codes to the labs, I would've given them to him, and I would've begged him to ask me more. And he might've too."

"Hm," Rude hums when the other goes quiet, and looks at the younger Turk, waiting for Reno to continue, to get to the point, the worst thing about it all – they had gone through this litany a few times, and he knows it's coming.

There, the shiver, the paling, the swallow, and the mutter, "Made me stop breathing," and another shiver. "Told me not to breathe and I didn't. I just… stopped breathing. Fucking scary shit."

Idly, Rude wonders if the First Class SOLDIERs could do that. If Sephiroth could tell someone to stop breathing and they'd just stop, holding their breaths until they passed out. It's not something he'd like to test, not something he thinks anyone would like to test, but… Sephiroth is the strongest Alpha known. At least, up until now.

"How come I didn't die?" Reno asks, turning to him, his eyes bleary and the line of his mouth extremely unhappy. "Why didn't I just choke to death?"

"Even Assertion can't control the unconscious body functions – after you passed out, your conscious mind lost control over your breathing, and so the order lost its effect," Rude answers. "It's as simple as that."

"Do you think he knew?" Reno wonders, looking uneasy at the notion of someone so powerful trying to kill him.

Rude shrugs. There's no way to tell. The guy might've known, he might've not. Everyone who had seen him that time, in the office, had been taken down the same way – the Alpha, whoever he was, had just told them not to breathe and they had eventually passed out. Which had let him leave unhindered – and by the time backup had reached the place, called by Reno's message, the guy had been long gone.

After Reno had recovered and Tseng had figured out how serious the situation was, the whole department had been informed and they had gone straight to Veld – who had been furious. And after that there had been nothing but going through the tapes, screening the files, the data, trying to figure out what the guy had done, how he had gotten in, how he had gotten out.

No luck. The computer he had used had been wiped down clean, leaving behind no traces, no clues other than what might've been done with it – which is not much, as that particular terminal hadn't been used for anything but distributing and redirecting messages and news to ShinRa's personnel. And the guy had, like the first time, come and gone without much of an impact – he had simply vanished in the corridors, like he knew where each and every camera was. Probably had known it too.

"What do you think that guy's after?" Reno asks, scowling. "I've been trying to figure it out, but… first that old ass computer in the archives, the only interesting thing about it is how many damn viruses the files have. Then a secretarial terminal? What the fucking hell."

"I don't know," Rude says, refilling their glasses. "But he'll probably be back at some point."

"How'd you figure that?"

Rude shrugs again. "He hasn't done anything to the company yet," he says. "And doesn't seem like he has good intentions. I think he's preparing for something."

Reno shudders and downs his drink in a single gulp.

 

* * *

 

 

"I need to know the extent of your Assertive power."

"Excuse me?" Sephiroth asks in a low, growling voice and is somewhat satisfied by the way it makes the Turk beta almost take a step backwards. Tseng holds his ground though, they get the best hierarchy-negation training ShinRa manages to produce and most of them don't even bat an eye at him unless he Asserts in their prescience, so it's always somewhat amusing to see _any_ of them reacting just to his voice.

This, though, isn't the time to be amused. Not at all, not with what Tseng's asking.

"I have presidential approval to inquire, as well as an order from Veld," Tseng says, his expression perfectly bland. "You can deny me, but you can't deny them."

Sephiroth can, actually, and easily too. There isn't a person on the Planet who can order him, not really. He wouldn't bother to start a power struggle with either the President or Veld, though, because even he in his power does require certain things and he likes his pay check to arrive undisturbed. That's not the point, though. "Why do you want to know?" he asks, suspicious, wondering if the Science Department might be behind this so called inquiry.

Aside from the fact that the inquiry is rather humiliating – is someone actually _questioning_ his dominance? – the science department had been trying to figure out the limits of his strength since forever it seemed. Since becoming the general, he had managed to avoid the irritating, bothersome tests and trials, but Hojo did try to come up with new excuses seemingly once a week to get him down to the laboratories so that he could test if he could do this or that with his presence or voice alone, and how exactly did he do it, and how much power he had to exert, could it be measured, duplicated…

Tseng hesitates and then straightens his back, ready to report. "There was a break-in at ShinRa, which was the latest in a short series – the first time the break-in went unnoticed until later when the security footage went through a regular check, but the second one had witnesses, and a Turk made an attempt to stop the break-in and capture the perpetrator."

"And this has something to do with my Assertive power?" the General asks, his eyes narrowing.

"No, sir, the perpetrator’s. He Asserted over both the regular civilian employees, a secretary and a janitor, as well as the Turk who confronted him," Tseng answers darkly. "A Turk, who had his hearing blocked and his eyes covered. And not just that, but he managed to make the Turk reveal unknown company secrets and, with his voice alone, managed to instil an order that goes against basic survival instincts, incapacitating the Turk without effort."

Sephiroth's eyebrows rise at that. "Against survival instincts?" he repeats slowly.

"The perpetrator told the Turk in question not to breathe, and he couldn't – the Turk passed out after a while, at which point his breathing resumed. However…" Tseng trails away and doesn't really need to continue.

That's… new. "What rank is the Turk?" the General asks, considering it, wondering.

"A high level gamma with beta tendencies," the Turk beta answers promptly, even though usually it's against Turk policies to give away such information. "He is also one of our most insubordinate agents and usually is quite difficult to Assert, even by low level SOLDIERs. You Firsts are a different matter, of course, but anyone below you would have… difficulties."

Sephiroth nods, eyeing the surface of his desk, thinking about it. Enough Assertive power to make someone stop breathing. He has never even heard of anything like that – though it sounds like something the Science Department would have a field day with. No one _should_ be able to do that, right? It is pretty much the same thing as telling someone in the middle of a deadly struggle to drop their weapons so that you can kill them – it just doesn't work, the basic need to survive gets the better of the Assertion. Even _he_ can't do it, and he's tried plenty of times in plenty of fights.

To hear that someone could… yes, he now knows why the Turk was here, asking – wanting to know if he has ever done something similar, if he can. Can he? Sephiroth scowls, thinking back to his more elaborate Assertions.

The most… thorough of them had been when he had Asserted over the group of elite warriors in Wutai, several years ago near the start of the war. It had been after defeating and disarming them and taking over the encampment they had been defending. It hadn't been enough to make them kneel, they had been too prideful and too strong, so he had forced them to kowtow to him – and with each and every one of them fighting his Assertion for all they could, he had had to make each individual move a separate order. On your knees, hands onto the ground, bow down, forehead against the ground… With a full set of three kneelings and nine touches to the floor with their foreheads, it had taken a lot of individual orders.

But to make someone stop breathing?

"Sir," Tseng says, making him glance up. "A threat of this sort is already serious, but we need to know the level of this perpetrator. Can _you_ overrule someone's survival instincts like that, with an order?"

Sephiroth narrows his eyes. The idea that someone out there might be _stronger_ than him is… both insulting and oddly enticing. Even Genesis and Angeal _together_ can't bring him down, neither in Assertive power nor in physical combat, and it doesn't take much for him to force them down. The concept that perhaps somewhere there might be someone who might be his match…

It has been so long since he has had a true power struggle. Not since he had been fourteen, maybe a bit younger.

"I have never tried," Sephiroth admits and then frowns. "I have gone against a person's survival instincts before, in close combat, and I have never managed to make anyone drop their weapons when they've considered themselves in true mortal danger. This sort of thing, though, I've never even considered." He's quiet for a moment before looking up at the Turk beta. "You do know that to compare my strength against your perpetrator's, I would have to Assert over the Turk who met him, correct?"

Tseng frowns at that and Sephiroth leans back, satisfied that he had gotten it right. Tseng hadn't revealed the Turk's name and was intending to keep it secret – perhaps just for this reason, to keep Sephiroth from testing. He could imagine why. Assertion like _that_ couldn't leave the Asserted in anything but emotional turmoil and Tseng, ever the beta, was trying to avoid causing further distress.

"Not if you successfully duplicate the effects over myself, sir," the beta finally says. "I am of higher level than he is. If you manage the same effect on me, then we will know for sure that you are stronger."

Sephiroth smiles at that, steepling his fingers as he considers the man. One really has to admire the Turks and their training. Very few would've offered, not for something like this – some just wouldn't have been able to stand it, and would've rather offered their inferiors for such tests. A beta's duty was to protect the lower cast members of his group, but betas never stood in the way of Alphas, not willingly – they fell behind them instead.

But here he was, offering to put himself directly in the firing line, to protect his people. Angeal would approve of it heartily.

"What exactly did the perpetrator do, then?" Sephiroth asks, and Tseng tells him. It is a short but a damning litany – Assertion through suppressors, then questions which the Turk hadn't been able to remember later, their subject matter or what he had answered, which meant that he had been ordered to forget. And finally, the order against breathing.

Sephiroth nods. Short and succinct and apparently without any undue suffering to the Turk. It's a small wonder the perpetrator hadn't taken the time to gloat or revel in his power – most would've. The execution of the whole thing sounds almost… SOLDIER like. It is rather telling and quite interesting.

" _On your knees_ ," Sephiroth commands, and Tseng lets out a choked gasp as he crashes to the floor.

"T-the suppressors –" the Turk gasps, only barely managing to get the words through – that too is rather admirable. Very few manage to keep that much of themselves, after Sephiroth's Assertion. Though it is quickly passing – Tseng's eyes are already getting that glazed look that they all do, sooner or later.

"I can Assert over Angeal and Genesis when they're silenced, suppressed, and behind a half meter thick wall," Sephiroth says, standing up from behind his desk and walking around it. "I think we have that covered," he adds, and stops to stand in front of the kneeling Turk. "Now think of a Turk secret, nothing high level, nothing that will endanger your or my standing in the company, but which you aren't meant to reveal. Something you're not supposed to know, something potentially embarrassing to someone, but not yourself." He pauses to give the man time to consider it and then orders, "tell it to me."

Tseng lets out a shuddering breath that Sephiroth knows _oh_ so well. The Turk is just a hair's width from moaning. "V-Veld's original partner was in love with him, which is why the partnership was separated – and now Veld blames himself for his death," the downed man says and writhes slightly, his body arching. Once, Sephiroth had thought that people thrashed like that when they were struggling against his verbal hold – but that isn't it. There is a pleasure in that struggle – Angeal had explained it to him – and the sensation of trying and not being able to move could be intoxicating. Most times people couldn't help but writhe, just to feel it.

"I see," Sephiroth says, smiling slightly. "Now forget what you told me," he orders and Tseng bows his head, panting. Three out of four. One last thing to do. "Tseng," Sephiroth says, softly, gently – which sometimes has a much stronger effect than harsh shouting ever could. "Stop breathing."

Tseng struggles against that order, his subconscious mind and his body's unconscious routines fighting it with everything he has. The writhing has a decisively pained tone to it now and when the man groans, it is an agonised sound. Sephiroth watches, listening to how the man's panting gets ragged, begins to falter, but doesn't stop. The struggle to not follow the order is enough to bring sweat to the man's forehead and make him grind his teeth, his every muscle tensed and strained.

It's not working.

"Breathe normally," Sephiroth orders, not wanting the man to pull a muscle fighting him. As Tseng draws a ragged breath, relaxing now that he's no longer under such strain, the General narrows his eyes. So, even like this he can't cross that border, that limit of the human mind. Interesting and… a bit relieving. He has never taken much pleasure in putting someone through discomfort just because of his Assertion, and to know that there is a limit, a definite limit to his strength, some lengths he can't go just with his voice… it eases his own, unspoken worries a bit.

It however leaves the question open. Two actually, since the order to forget is untested.

"Get up," he says and Tseng stands up with visible relief, shuddering slightly. "I had you tell me a Turk secret. Do you remember what it was?"

Tseng frowns, concentrating. "I remember you asking, but… I'm not sure what I answered. I can guess, though, judging by the way you worded the question, and what my likely answer would be – I probably told you about Veld's partner," he answers and then looks up. "The test was inconclusive."

"Yes. I would need to do it again on the Turk who met your intruder," Sephiroth agrees with a nod. "Or," he adds when Tseng scowls slightly. "Or someone of similar level and abilities. Is there someone like that among your Turks?"

Tseng considers it. "Yes," he nods. "If she agrees to it, I will arrange for Cissnei to meet with you as soon as possible." The man nods his head, looking a bit troubled as he turns to leave. "Thank you for your time, General."

"You're not satisfied with the results so far, Tseng," Sephiroth interrupts his retreat, narrowing his eyes. "What are you thinking?"

Tseng smiles grimly. "The Turk who the intruder Asserted over… isn't _that_ much weaker than myself, and far less obedient with Alphas other than his own," he admits, and turns to leave.

 Sephiroth frowns at the Turk beta's retreating back, before walking around his desk and taking a seat. So, Tseng thinks the intruder had greater Assertive power than he did, judging by the test. Interesting. Very, _very_ interesting.

He needs to get in on this investigation.


	3. Chapter 3

 

He is already there when Aerith gets to the church that morning. She almost drops the bucket of water she's carrying at the sight of him sitting there, by the flowers – she hadn't been expecting to see him again after the first time.

"Hello?" she calls tentatively, and the Ultima looks up with a faint smile.

"Hello, Aerith," he says. "Here to water the flowers?"

"Ah, yes," she says, relaxing a bit when he just nods and smiles at her, with no hint of the dangerous dominant power anywhere in him. For the last weeks, she's been feeling his movements in upper Midgar, and once the eerie, radiation of his power as he used it over someone – it had made her lose sleep and shiver in her bed even though it had been a warm night, just the thought of him _doing_ that to a person had been enough… But here he is, and outwardly there is no sign of what a dangerous man he really is.

"I can clear out if I'm in the way," the Ultima says, placing his hand onto the floor as if to push himself up.

"No, it's… it's okay," Aerith says, smiling, and coming closer first tentatively but then with a bit more confidence. "It's a free church – I don't own it."

He says nothing and in silence Aerith hoists the bucket up and begins to splash the water about the hole in the floor, where the flowers stick out – not for the first time wishing that she could find a watering can somewhere in Midgar. It's pretty much impossible though – nothing _grows_ in Midgar, so there is no need to water anything either.

"There," she says with satisfaction once all the water is gone. "That ought to do for a day or so."

"Hm," he agrees with a nod, eyeing the flowers with an odd sort of forlorn expression.

Placing the bucket town, Aerith gives the Ultima a curious look, wondering. "So," she starts. "What brings you here again? I thought you wouldn't come. You said you shouldn't have."

"I shouldn't have, yeah, and I shouldn't. But… I needed a break," the boy answers, closing his eyes and sighing. "It’s… not as easy to pretend as I thought it would be," he admits and then shakes his head. "Besides, I'm almost done here and when the time comes, I'm not sure if I have the time to come and say good bye, so I came a bit early instead."

"Done… here?" Aerith asks, and slowly crouches down beside him, wondering what he's doing but knowing better than to ask. "You're leaving afterwards? Do you have to?"

"Probably," the Ultima says, giving her an indulgent smile and shaking his head. "I've done most of what I need to do, made my preparations. The last thing is a bit more drastic, though, and I'm bound to get caught in the middle of it. After that, I can't stay here," he says and turns to the flowers again. Then, after a moment, he says quietly, "You should leave Midgar. You and your mother. And anyone else you could convince to come along."

The statement makes her blood run cold for a moment. Leave? Why? _What was he going to do to Midgar_? Turning to the flowers as well, Aerith shudders a bit, trying to wrap her mind around the implications, the horrible, _destructive_ implications. Makes the world kneel, he said. Was that going to start soon?

"What is going to happen?" she whispers.

"Ah, well. That depends on ShinRa, how tenacious they are, and how resourceful. If they are, then little will change overall and Midgar will still function more or less the way it always has. If not, if they can't overcome what will happen, then ShinRa will fall apart and Midgar will start starving pretty soon," the Ultima says without remorse and looks at her. "And the people down in the slums will be the first to starve to death."

There is a moment of silence as the Ultima waits for the words to sink in. "Honestly, I don't think ShinRa will overcome what will happen," he admits, looking away again. "They're too dependent on their power and when I take it away from them, it'll cripple them. Maybe in time they'll pull themselves together, but not before the damage is done."

Aerith shivers and buries her face into her knees, her eyes squeezed shut. She might've not been one of those people who fell under the Ultima's power, but there was a different sort of power in his words. The true power – of a plainly spoken cruel fact. This _would_ happen, nothing would stop it, and the Ultima thought it better if she just left.

Can she leave, though? Can her mother leave? Even now there must be a man in a dark blue suit standing somewhere near the church, watching, waiting – guarding and chaining her. She hadn't tried to escape, not since figuring out that they weren't out to get her – just yet – but… they are there, and as good as a chain around her neck. Would they let her leave? She doubts it very much.

The Ultima seems to almost hear her thoughts because he chuckles. "You are the Ancient, the last one," he reminds her. "What could possibly hold you back?"

"I don't… have that sort of power," Aerith says, frowning.

"Yes you do. You have the power of Gaia at your fingertips," he says, reaching to touch the white orb of Materia she always carries with her, making her eyes widen. "Ask her," he tells her softly. "She will make a way for you and for anyone else you bring with you."

Shivering, Aerith looks at him, seeing the utter confidence in his eyes – he really thinks she can? "Where… Where should I go?"

"Somewhere where they farm and where they don't have a Mako reactor," he says. "Kalm is a good destination, if you don't want to go far, but I'd suggest somewhere a bit further way. Someplace where it'll be harder for… anyone to find you."

She shivers again – he knows about her watchers! – but nods and he pulls his hand back from Holy, shifting further back. He smiles, sad. "I'm sorry, though. I'm sort of ruining everything for you."

"W-what do you mean?"

"If I let things run their natural course, you would meet a guy in about half a year or so – a guy you would really like, a guy who would dedicate his whole heart to you," he says and glances up at the ceiling, to the hole there. "He would fall onto your flowers and you'd take care of him and after that you wouldn't be able to get rid of him. But… if you leave, and you should, you might never meet him. And I'm sorry about that – and not just for your sake."

Aerith lifts her eyebrows at that, looking at him curiously. "What, is he like _the one_ for me?" she asks, a bit amused.

"Yes," he says, just as factual with that as he had been with Midgar's eventual starvation. It makes her amusement falter a bit, but not entirely.

"Well, if he _is_ the one for me, then fate should send him my way no matter where I go. If I plant flowers in Kalm, he ought to crash into them at some point, right?" she asks and smiles. She doesn't really believe him – she doesn't believe in love, just companionship and even that tends to have an odd quality for her because she's not part of the natural order of hierarchy most people are under. Someone dedicating their heart to her? No, after all she's been through, she can't really believe that. It would be nice, but… not realistic.

But it makes the Ultima smile and chuckle. "That might be true," he agrees and stands up. "Good bye, Aerith."

"Good bye, Ultima," she says and tilts her head. "Would you like a flower before you go?"

"You know, I think I would," he agrees, and with a smile she hands him two.

 

* * *

 

 

It's starting to be a bit too much. The more Kunsel watches the omega of group four, the harder it is to contain his confusion and curiosity – and the harder it is to treat the boy like an omega.

Sure, the blond kid has the overall _shape_ of an omega in his acting, just enough to make it seem right – he stays back, doesn't push himself forward, doesn't make attempts to include himself in any conversations, keeps to himself… but that is it. He doesn't bow his head, his back is _always_ straight, he doesn't shrink away from stronger presences and he never acts submissive. Even when someone Asserts him it doesn't look like he's really _being_ Asserted, no. It just looks like he decided there and then that he might as well go down, and that is it – like it's a choice for him, rather than necessity.

After a while, it stops being intriguing and starts being something very close to maddening. Because the kid does it even when _Kunsel_ Asserts him. Be it with all the cadets gathered or just the six of the group in question, whenever the SOLDIER Asserts over the kid, the blond goes down with that same bland expression – and even when Kunsel holds the cadets down, the so-called omega's eyes never glaze over like the others' do. He can have the rest of the group near to being _high_ through Assertion, but not that kid, no. The so-called omega keeps his mind. _Keeps every bit of it_.

It starts bothering Kunsel so much that he eventually breaks training Alpha etiquette, and starts looking into the background of the so-called omega. It's not normally done – the cadets enjoy and suffer anonymity during their training, and are nothing but their ranks and their abilities to themselves and to their Alpha. Histories, family backgrounds, hometowns or anything else of that sort simply cease being in SOLDIER training, and have no value. Except this time. This time, Kunsel has to know.

The so called omega's name is Cloud Strife. He’s fifteen years of age, from a little west continent town named Nibelheim – the son of a single mother, with very little to commend him in what little academic records he had supplied the SOLDIER program with. Nothing unusual about him, nothing that explains his behaviour, nothing.

Nothing, except what he's seeing in the kid.

The worst thing is that Kunsel isn't sure what to do about it. Luxiere tries to push him to do something – because there is obviously something going on here, but… he doesn't know what. Should he confront the boy? It doesn't seem like a good option, for some reason. Tell someone? Who? One of the Alphas? Would they _care_?

He is, not for the first time, considering those options as he heads to one of observatories with the intention of watching group four – and its omega – train, only to find Zack there, already watching the group work out with a frown of concentration on his face. The sight of the beta makes the training Alpha falter a little, as Zack is one of the least likely people to enjoy watching others _train_. Hell, Zack is notorious for his preference to actual action rather than training – beyond doing squats, anyway. Zack's a learn-on-the-job sort of guy.

"Zack?" Kunsel asks, surprised. "Didn't think I'd see you here. You looking for me?"

"Not really, just wanted to watch these guys," Zack admits, while Kunsel falls to stand beside him, just a smidgeon behind him – still after all this time, falling back to the old pattern from their own cadet days. Zack throws him a smile in acknowledgement of the positioning. "Hope I'm not in your way," the beta says. "Don't mean to be a bother."

"It's okay, it's not like there's not enough space," Kunsel answers, shaking his head – too curious and worried to be bothered by Zack butting into his territory. Zack wants to watch the cadets? No. "You know any of these guys?" he asks, a bit suspicious.

"No. Well. Not really – saw one of them some days back in the corridor when I _was_ looking for you," Zack says, scratching the side of his head thoughtfully. "That omega. Isn't there something a bit strange about him?"

And that jolts Kunsel more than anything so far has, more than Cloud Strife does – because now it's not just him and his rather outlandish theories bouncing back from Luxiere. Zack came to that conclusion by himself, without hearing a word of Kunsel's suspicions, and _it's not just him._ There is _something_ wrong with the omega of group four, something wrong with _Cloud Strife,_ and he's not the only one who sees it.

"How so?" Kunsel asks slowly.

"Well… he doesn't act like an omega," Zack says with a slight frown, thinking about it. "When I saw him, one of your other groups had him surrounded and it looked like they were seriously intending to beat the little guy up. Except they didn't…" he trails away. "I think they _couldn't._ "

While Kunsel frowns in concentration, adding that to his own theories and observations, Zack shakes his head. "I've been watching these guys for about ten minutes now and that kid… he's not part of the group at all," Zack says, pointing. "He's there but he's not part of those guys, he's not in their ranks. The fifth kid is the omega here, but he doesn't realise it because somehow the blond kid is fooling them all." He considers that and then shakes his head. "No, not fooling… blinding them."

"Blinding them?" Kunsel asks, confused.

"Well, it happens sometimes. Pretty rarely, but I've been around Angeal so long that I've seen it a couple of times," Zack explains. "Sometimes when civilians meet Angeal – or any of the other Alphas – they sort of… don't register their strength, you know? I mean, the civilians don't. Angeal explained it to me once, that because the difference in Assertive power is so great, some civilians just can't handle it – so they just turn themselves sort of blind to keep themselves sane."

"Civilians making themselves immune to Assertion?" Kunsel asks in disbelief.

"No, not like that – they're still under it, nothing less than mortal danger can make someone immune to Assertion. The Assertion is there, but these people aren't aware of it?" Zack explains, making a face. "Angeal explained it better. It's got something to do with coping mechanisms."

"Oh, you mean they don't register it consciously," Kunsel clarifies, and considers it. That he can buy, easily enough. There are a lot of weird psychological quirks that sometimes pop up when it comes to Assertive power – personality shifts, people fitting themselves into their ranks and very nearly becoming different people entirely, and of course the back flash which happens when a person of certain rank Shifts, changes power levels and thus ranks so dramatically that their mind just can't keep up. And there are lots and lots of coping mechanisms – especially on the submissive side of Assertion. So this… blinding effect makes sense.

Except…

"You said it's rare," Kunsel says slowly.

"Yeah, really rare. I've seriously only seen it a couple of times – once with Angeal. This little civilian boy, I think he just got his rank or something, just sort went weird and all blank faced when he met Angeal. And then there was this woman, a fan I think, who sort of flipped a switch in front of Sephiroth. Was all hyper at first and then, snap, it was like she had suddenly gotten a lobotomy," Zack says and nods towards the training room. "These guys have the exact same expressions on their faces."

Kunsel frowns and leans forward, looking more closely at the group of teens going through their sword practice forms. Group four has been, since the beginning, the calmest of all four groups under his command. He has already figured that it isn't because of good leadership in the group, or because they have forged any close bonds – the group doesn't show any particular closeness or any inclination towards team work even on the best of days, so that's not it. It's something else, and yes…

Their expressions have always been a bit bland. Hell, the whole group is a bit bland – they don't stand out in any way, they don't show any particular passion, never put a toe out of line, never did anything extraordinary. They just go by their days according to schedule, do their training mostly in silence, and… are absolutely featureless.

"I think I may be imagining it though," he adds, glancing at Kunsel. "I think I'd have to be."

"Why?" Kunsel asks, a bit unnerved by the whole thing now. More than a bit.

"Well, it takes serious strength to blind someone and this kid is a toothpick," Zack says, scowling slightly and folding his arms as he stares at the cadets, most of whom are just training solo, going through some katas without even bothering to work together with their group mates. Cloud Strife too is swinging a sword; against the pretence of an omega, he is not holding anything back and is using more space than any of the others as he hefts the practice sword in powerful swings.

It should've been drawing attention to him, but those around him are ignoring him pretty much like they're ignoring each other.

"And it doesn't seem like he's just blinding them. He's also controlling them," Zack murmurs. "He's making them ignore him – just like he somehow made the kids of that other group not beat him up."

Kunsel swallows, eyeing Strife who is in the middle of a rather complicated series of swings, upper cut, block, side swipe, parry, lower cut… "I… I've noticed some things about him, too," he admits finally, the whole thing too much – he has to get it out, tell it to a superior, to Zack. Something has to be done about it. It's too much now. He can't handle it and he doesn't know what to do with it. "I don't think he's ever been an omega. He's never acted like one – no subservience whatsoever. And his group has never checked him on it – ever since the beginning, they've been ignoring him," he says, thinking about it. If another group hadn't been able to lay a hand on Strife, then what would it have been like if his own group had tried? Maybe they had, and had been somehow… stopped. Or the _blinding_ had started already back then.

"Hm," Zack agrees. "Why _is_ that guy the omega?" he asks then, sounding confused.

"Well… He goes down for everyone."

The beta's eyebrows rise. "Everyone?" he asks with incredulity. "He's blinding those kids, and kneels for them too?"

"Everyone in the group, and the other groups. Even the other omegas," Kunsel says, uneasy. "But, uh… I think he's doing it because he chooses to. He doesn't have to, isn't forced to – he just chooses to." Then, after a moment, he admits. "He does it when I Assert over his group too. He goes down, sure, but it never looks real – it's more like he's… humouring me."

Zack blinks and looks at him, eyebrows raised. "And you _haven't_ checked him on it?" he asks, disbelieving. "You think he's humouring you and you haven't done anything? Not even tried to put him in his place?"

Kunsel squirms a bit. What Strife does annoys him a bit, confuses him, sure, but… "No," he says awkwardly. "I…" he wants to, he's wanted to for a while – Luxiere's been telling him and yeah, he _wants_ to get a proper reaction out of Strife. But… but… "I don't know. I've been thinking about it, but I don't know, I just… haven't been able to make up my mind on it. I wanted to see if there was a reason for it, see if he was going to keep at it – no one should be able to, right? But…"

"Kunsel," Zack says, soft with shock. "Has that kid ever Asserted?" When Kunsel doesn't answer, he asks again. "Have you even thought of making him Assert?"

"Well, I've thought of it, but… uh… No," Kunsel admits, and he's uncomfortably aware of what just might be happening.

He's blinded. Blinded and controlled the same way Strife is controlling the cadets. Kunsel hasn't faced Strife, or demanded him to Assert, because something about Strife is holding him in check – stopping him from confronting him, from making any definite decisions about him, even from taking the initiative to _tell_ someone about him.

The training Alpha goes pale as the concept that he's being controlled by a _cadet_ who has never Asserted sinks in.

Zack realises it faster than he does – the beta is already striding towards the doorway, through it and then to the door leading to the training room. Kunsel stumbles after him and watches as Zack practically storms into _his_ territory and takes it over with a simple, almost cheerful, "Hiya cadets. _Kneel_!"

While Kunsel is saved from the Assertion by the fact that it's not directed at him, the cadets aren't so lucky – the words send most of them crashing to their knees, their practice swords clattering to the floor and their gasps of pain echoing in the room as their knees hit the harsh metal. A few of them look terrified, most of them look shocked.

Most of them. All, except for Strife, who was taken by surprise and is _still standing_. The other cadets are shivering and very quickly beginning to squirm under Zack's Assertion – Zack's so close to a SOLDIER Alpha that the un-enhanced fall under the thrall of his Assertion almost instantly – but not Strife. The blond stands still for a moment then lowers his practice sword slowly, turning to look at the two SOLDIERs.

"Omega, is it?" Zack asks, hands at his waist, back straight, chin high, ever the display of dominance. It has no effect on Strife, though, and behind Zack Kunsel can't help but shiver and wonder at his friend's sheer strength of will. If it had been him who had snapped that command, only to get _this_ result… he wouldn't have been standing so proud.

Zack is the strongest SOLDIER Second there is. Above him there are only the Firsts, the Alphas.

And Zack, even while dropping the command out of nowhere and not giving the guy any time to guard himself… hadn't been able to make Strife kneel.

The blond so-called omega is surprised, though. It's on his face, in his eyes – wide, startled, a bit uneasy. He looks downright defenceless – except for the fact that he is not on the floor like he should be. As Kunsel and Zack watch, though, the surprise fades – no, it's covered by something else. By an expressionless mask that takes over the smooth young features and turns his eyes cool and distant.

And whatever appearance of an omega there had been in the kid evaporates completely – and it's something _else_ they're looking at. "Well, no. Not really," the blond kid says, throwing the practice sword away. It clatters loudly in the silence, leaving behind an odd tension – because Strife is unarmed now and still standing, standing strong and proud and, by the looks of it, without any concern. It is very telling and downright nerve-wracking.

"You're coming with us, cadet," Zack says, ever the beta, taking command of the unexpected situation. "To see the SOLDIER Alphas."

"Actually, I’m not," the cadet says, looking between the two SOLDIERs, seeming to consider his options before coming to some sort of private conclusion, which leaves him shaking away the last of his omega persona. " _Kneel_ ," he says, very soft.

And they go down; Zack with an audible grunt and a loud screech of metal against metal as the tip of the sword he carries on his back drags against the floor, and Kunsel with a bang and a crack as his knees complain. Kunsel hears a soft moan and it takes his shock addled mind a moment to realise the sound had come from him.

Then Strife speaks again, " _Down_ ," and the world seems to tilt and he's not sure how he manages not to just face plant on the floor, but his palms hit the cool metal floor instead, leaving him awkwardly on his knees and hands, gasping under the weight of the order, straining with all his might to fight gravity

"The… hell…?" he can hear Zack grunt out only distantly, like through a wall.

"Your sword was scraping against the floor – that sort of thing ruins the blade, you know," Strife explains, and Kunsel manages to lift his head just enough to see the not-cadet walk towards them. The silence is a silence no more – the other cadets are panting now, and when Kunsel looks at them he can easily tell what effect Strife's commands are having on them. They are all lying on the floor gracelessly, most of them curled into foetal positions, all of them are writhing, gasping and sweating – the impact of the second command too strong for them to handle.

"Sorry," Strife says, while crouching by Zack and reaching for the beta who, like Kunsel, is on his hands and knees. Fighting as hard as he can against the power and the thrall of the Assertion, Kunsel tries to strain towards them, to do _something_ … but Strife isn't going for the vitals. Instead, he rummages through Zack's pockets and comes away with a key card embossed with the ShinRa logo.

"I'm going to be borrowing this for a while," Strife says and then touches Zack's chin, lifting his head. Zack is panting through gritted teeth and though there’s a film of the usual glazing already over his eyes, he somehow manages to glare at Strife. The boy only smiles, though – it's an odd expression, not a happy one, not at all gloating or even dominating. It's just… vague. Almost miserable.

"I'm sorry," the not-omega says again, stroking a thumb over Zack's left cheek, his smile fading a bit. "And thank you, for everything."

And then Kunsel can't look anymore, it's too much, his head is swimming, too heavy, he can't hold it up and so it sinks towards his hands, almost touching the floor. His elbows are shaking and he can barely hold himself up. It's been so long since he's been Asserted this powerfully – he's a gamma so no one really has to bother to keep him in check with Assertions. He has almost forgotten… except this is more than what he's felt before. It reminds him a bit of his own cadet days, but only a bit – Angeal's Assertion had been powerful, but it's not this.

This is _everything_. Every fact, every rumour, every titbit of information he knows about Assertion, all condensed into a single moment, into a single feeling. Obedience, obedience, obedience. God, he wants to curl up, stay down forever, never get up, if only it would please this man, and never ever think of anything, just be there, be there and be _nothing_ , do nothing but obey and be under this perfect, overwhelming control…

When Strife tells them not to breathe, Kunsel almost sobs with joy at the command.

  

* * *

 

 

"It's not going to get any better no matter how you brood on it," Angeal comments idly, while turning the pages of the report he was reading – about the break-ins at the archives and the secretarial department. Sephiroth doesn't answer, only scowls harder at the table, making the lesser Alpha shake his head and resume reading.

He and Genesis both had been informed about the intruder the moment Sephiroth had tested his Assertion against the Turk Cissnei – and failed to bring about the same effect as the, by now rather legendary, intruder. They had even tried it on a civilian volunteer without any training, with no effect – it was simply impossible to order someone not to breathe. It was one of the absolute impossibilities of human nature.

Or it was for everyone, except for the intruder.

"Why hasn't he made another appearance?" Sephiroth growls.

"Might be that he's reached his goal and has nothing else to do around here," Angeal says and smiles slightly as the higher Alpha sends him a scowl. "You can growl at me all you want, Sephiroth, it won't change the facts – nor will your brooding. He comes if he will, he won't if he won't, and chances are you're not going to meet him no matter what happens or what you do."

Sephiroth’s glare hardens, but Angeal has enough strength to ignore it – they've Asserted pretty recently, and there is no will left for a power struggle in him, no matter how much the higher Alpha tempts him. Instead he just shakes his head and goes back to reading the reports, trying to figure out something new from them.

He can understand Sephiroth's need, though. Gaia only knows how long Sephiroth has been without an equal – and, all things considered… Sephiroth's personality isn't actually an Alpha personality. Not originally. He's been trained to be one, and he has all the tricks and mannerisms down pat, but there are still hints that once upon a time, he had been something else – even as the ultimate Alpha of the SOLDIERs, Sephiroth is still the sort of person who likes doing things more than he likes making people do things for him. He is extremely dominant, yes, and delights in domination, but… but there is still something there that thinks just a bit outside the neat box of Alpha behaviour.

And considering everything, considering how long he has been the strongest, the undefeatable, the invincible… To Sephiroth, the idea that there is someone _higher_ , someone _stronger_ … it must've been enticing.

Angeal can understand that, because he's pretty much the same way. He hadn't started out as an Alpha either. Very few SOLDIERs did, actually – it was a pretty well-kept secret, but very few Alphas _grew stronger_ in the way a SOLDIER had to. It wasn't in them to better themselves once they had reached the point of being Alphas, because it is ingrained in human behaviour that an Alpha is already the strongest, highest goal you could have. So there is no need to improve. Those beneath Alpha, with the exception of most omegas, did have the urge to get stronger, though – to become stronger _for_ their Alphas or, if need be, in order to _become_ an Alpha.

It amuses him to no end that his puppy is actually the most Alpha like person he's seen in the SOLDIER program – the only natural Alpha to have reached that level of strength.

But this… this is dangerous. Not just the intruder and his odd strength, but Sephiroth's urge to face him – it's been getting worse since the General of ShinRa had figured out that the guy had higher Assertive power than he did, and Angeal rather doubts it has much to do with the urge to Assert his own domination over the intruder. Sephiroth has never met the intruder, after all, so why would he have the urge? What he has is the ingrained reflexes forced onto him by whatever training ShinRa gave him, to be strong and appear strong… and the deeper, inner instincts. The natural ones.

Sephiroth, like all those who started below Alpha, craves the strength of others. He might word it however he wants – an equal match, a good fight, even a battle, and so on – but in the end he just wants to meet someone _stronger_ than him, if not for any other reason than to see if such a person exists. Which for the SOLDIER program is rather bad – Sephiroth is their ultimate Alpha after all, and for him to have this sort of… well, not quite a weakness but something very close to it is a bit… worrisome.

And it really makes him glad that Genesis is in Wutai and not here and part of the proceedings.

Beyond that, though, there are a lot of things about the intruder that worry Angeal. Tseng has had his Turks put every frame of every piece of film they have of the assailant under analysis, until they have some idea about the guy's physical appearance. They know his approximate height and weight, and the guy doesn't even reach _Zack's_ chin, not to mention about getting anywhere near his body mass. The intruder is a slim, small guy, which contradicts his sheer Assertive power.

Which either means that his Assertive power comes from his magical abilities – like with Genesis who isn't physically anywhere near Angeal's or Sephiroth's level, but beats both of them when it comes to magic. Or that somehow, his Assertive power has nothing to do with fighting abilities, one way or the other.

Except that should be impossible. The Science Department has tried for decades to boost a person's Assertion without having to bother with their physical or magical might, with no luck – the two are inherently linked. Or they had been, until now.

Lowering the report, Angeal looks at Sephiroth who has at some point stood up from behind his desk and stalked to the window instead. "What is Assertion?" he asks. "What makes it work?"

"Senses. Subconscious recognition and deduction. Pheromones. Magic, to some extent," Sephiroth answers. "Mostly senses."

Angeal nods. One person sensing another's strength and acting accordingly – that is what makes Assertion. Assertion is one of the rare things that even chemicals can't confuse – a monster's poison might make someone ignore their survival instincts and hit themselves with their own sword, but it won't keep them from falling to their knees when someone stronger Asserted – hell, it made them fall faster. But…

Could there be a way? The Science Department certainly thinks so; they are still doing their all to discover the ultimate Assertion drug. Could someone have discovered it, and now the intruder is using it, somehow? It would explain why someone so small would have so much power.

After a moment of consideration, he voiced the concept to his superior Alpha, making Sephiroth glance at him over his shoulder. "Do you think it would be possible?" Angeal asked, running a hand over his chin.

"No," Sephiroth says. "I think Assertion is involved with the same part of a human's mind that deals with magic, that uses magic – it is in a way not a _physical_ sense, but the same psychic one that makes you able to use Materia. I don't think it can be produced chemically any more than a machine can be made to use magic – you need that… ethereal component you can't manufacture."

"You mean a soul or a spirit?" Angeal murmurs, thoughtful.

"Call it what you will," Sephiroth shakes his head and frowns. "Either way, I don't think Assertion is something that can be… feigned."

Angeal doesn't either, not really. He's seen too much, too many Assertions, under too many different circumstances. But it would've explained things. But then _how_ was it possible? How is it feasible that someone so small could have Assertive powers beyond those of Sephiroth?

There is only one explanation, if chemically induced Assertion isn't it. "He must be enhanced, somehow," the Commander says. "Some way that doesn't change his outward appearance much."

The higher Alpha sighs and doesn't answer, his attention on the window again. Shaking his head, Angeal folds the documents and drops them on his superior Alpha’s desk. Maybe it's time to change the subject. "How are things going in Wutai?"

"Genesis is handling it," Sephiroth says, relaxing a bit, but not looking away from the window. "And I think he just might be sufficiently irritating to finally wear the place down enough for them to finally give in," he adds with a hint of a smile in his voice.

"What a thing to say about your fellow Alpha," Angeal murmurs, but with a smile. It is true, though – Genesis can be extremely exhausting, if not because of his seemingly endless reserves of magic, then because of his personality. If Sephiroth, who has the patience of a rock when it comes to his underlings, has gotten tired of listening to LOVELESS quotes, then it wouldn't take long for Genesis's enemies to beg for mercy.

That wouldn't end the war, though. They would first have to take FortTamblin, Wutai's greatest stronghold, the place where the royal family had been hiding for the past five years or so. That wouldn't be easy; they still didn't even know where the place was – Wutai was nothing if not good at secrecy – and after that they would have to storm the legendary Fort, and judging by the rumours they had heard of the place…

Still. He can't wait for the war to end. It would decrease the work load of the SOLDIERs, maybe even put a few of them out of work with no war to fight, but it would be worth it.

"I suppose he's having the time of his life over there," Angeal says consideringly, thinking about their fellow Alpha. Genesis would enjoy it. One couldn't call Genesis the best of Alphas – the man is too individualistic for that – but he enjoys flashy shows of power and that is precisely what they need in Wutai. "Has he reported any –?"

Before he can finish the sentence, the alarm sirens begin to blare and the lights all turn to red, making both of the Alphas look up, all hints of casual idleness vanishing from their faces and postures. " _Level fifty, breach. Security guards down, enemy Assertion confirmed_ ," an automated female voice informs them through the speakers. " _Level fifty, breach. Security guards down, enemy Assertion confirmed. Level fifty_ …"

Angeal only has a moment to glance Sephiroth's way before the superior Alpha is already _ahead_ of him, and at the elevator. Cursing, the second-in-command rushes after his superior Alpha, just barely managing to squeeze his way into the elevator before the doors close. "You think it's him?" he asks, while Sephiroth hits the button for the right floor.

"Whoever it is, they're not some random thug," Sephiroth says, fingering the hilt of his Masamune. "Not if they Asserted the guards on floor _fifty_."

Angeal nods darkly. Floor fifty is one of the SOLDIER floors. It's the one SOLDIERs have their personal quarters on and thus it has the largest SOLDIER traffic in the whole building. And it is guarded, rather loosely most of the time but guarded none the less, by SOLDIERs themselves. To think that they had been Asserted… and they _had_ been Asserted, too, that couldn't be a false alarm – you only got a confirmed enemy Assertion if it actually happens – the alarm is only triggered when the sensors in the guard uniform knees hit the floor, after all, a necessary warning system because most of those who are Asserted don't get the chance to hit the alarms themselves.

But was it _him_? The intruder who could overrule a person's survival instincts?

Why floor fifty, though? There is nothing valuable there, nothing special. Just the private quarters, a small infirmary, a couple of small training rooms, a gym and the armoury, nothing else. No computers whatsoever, unless you counted the ones for personal use. So why _there_?

The elevator stops and the doors open to reveal a very… interesting sight. There are the security guards, both SOLDIER Seconds, who are on their knees, and not just on their knees – on their _hands_ and knees, staring at the floor. They're not the only ones, though. There are several other SOLDIERs in the entrance hall – most of them looking like they're off duty – and each and every one of them are on the floor. A few seem to be struggling against the invisible hold keeping them down, some of them look pale – but most are already in that mindless state a powerful Assertion leaves a man, their eyes glazed, their skins flushed.

And amidst all of it stands a small slip of a boy, blond haired and blue eyed and almost petite. He's facing the elevator without any expression on his face, his eyes calm and unsurprised at the sight of them. Standing, while there are _SOLDIERs_ all around him, on their knees. How did he escape the Assertion, what is he doing there anyway, he's wearing a _cadet_ uniform, and besides one needs a key card…

It takes Angeal's mind a moment to realise that the kid isn't being Asserted – because _he's_ the one doing the Assertion.

"The height is right, the weight… You're the intruder," Sephiroth says, taking out his Masamune in a single smooth motion.

The kid doesn't answer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes them in. "You'll do," he says then and tilts his head just slightly – directing his full gaze at Sephiroth. " _On your knees_."

The choked gasp escapes Angeal's lips before he can stop it – not just because of the sudden force that begins pushing down on him, making his knees buckle. But because of the order too, because _that's_ Sephiroth's Assertion order. Angeal's never heard anyone else use it, or one like it – it's three words long and usually a person can only condense that much power into _one_ word. More words than that and the power is split between them, making the order weaker – at least it does with everyone, except Sephiroth.

And this boy.

Because as much as he fights against it, as much as he tries to keep himself standing, his knees are giving in, and his ankles hurt with the fight. With a grunt of fury, Angeal falls to his knees, flinching a bit as he hears the scream of metal as his Buster Sword hits the floor. He wishes he had had the time to take it off. Sephiroth usually gives him the time to remove the sword so that he doesn't damage it, kneeling. The blade would probably never be the same, if he had to stay this way for long.

" _On your knees,_ Sephiroth," the kid says and with a jerk Angeal looks up, at the kid then at his superior Alpha. Sephiroth is still standing, fighting, and for a moment Angeal feels a sense of triumph – because Sephiroth is in a way _his_ Alpha and he is standing while Angeal isn't. Even if this kid is the intruder who could bypass a person's survival instincts, he's not bringing Sephiroth to his knees.

But then he sees that Sephiroth is only holding his ground barely – taking support from the wall with a desperate grip, panting for breath as he does it. And the kid doesn't seem bothered at all, neither by Sephiroth's fighting nor by his furious glare. " _On your knees_ , Sephiroth," he repeats again, and then again and again, each order forcing Sephiroth one inch lower until he loses his grip of the wall, and falls down, panting heavily through an open mouth, his face glazed with sweat. There is a vein on the superior Alpha's neck, throbbing painfully and Angeal shivers a bit.

Sephiroth… is on his knees.

He's never seen Sephiroth on his knees. He's imagined it in those infuriating moments when the Alpha in him couldn't stand the man's power, but… he never thought he _would_ see it. But there it is, Sephiroth is on the floor, his Masamune fallen beside him and his black coat pooling over his folded legs. Even if it had taken several Assertions to put him there, the fact remains. And not only is he on the floor, but his eyes are a bit hazy, and he's shaking powerfully as the Assertions push down not just on his body, but his mind as well, forcing him to submit in a way no one has probably ever managed to force him.

Angeal is suddenly very, very glad that he's not as strong as Sephiroth – he wouldn't have wanted to feel the strain of so many Assertions on top of each other. Thank Gaia the Assertions had been directed specifically at Sephiroth – because Angeal is still keeping his mind. He is down, can't get up, but he is still himself.

"Who the hell… are you?" Sephiroth grunts through gritted teeth, shuddering and being forced to take support from the floor with one hand so that he wouldn't fall down completely.

"I am the Ultima," the boy says, stepping forward, walking past the Asserted SOLDIERs and to the two Alphas. Angeal watches him, and flinches a bit when the kid turns his blue eyes to him, but it seems he isn't the priority because the kid doesn't seem inclined to Assert over him again. "Take the sword off and put it on the floor beside you – you'll ruin it that way," he just says, almost flippant, and with shaking hands Angeal quickly detaches the Buster Sword from his back.

As he does, the kid crouches in front of Sephiroth, looking rather small in comparison, except for the fact that Sephiroth is down while he isn't. "Well, this is a change," the so called Ultima murmurs, reaching to touch Sephiroth's face. The Alpha of SOLDIER flinches back but can't escape the touch, and so the kid takes his chin in his fingers, holding the SOLDIER First's face up. "Look at _you_ ," the Ultima says, and smiles.

"Fuck you," Sephiroth answers in a choked growl, but his breathing is still in disarray and his eyes are going blank – he's losing the fight for dominance inside his own mind, and the subservience is taking over. It is horrible to watch as it takes over more and more of the SOLDIER First's expression, horrible and oddly… beautiful.

There is always some odd sweetness in the sight of someone going completely obedient – the way their eyes go distant, their faces turn serene, and all fight escapes from them – it affects more or less everybody the same way. Natural instinct, the delight in someone's subservience, everyone above an omega has it. But Sephiroth has probably _never_ had that expression on his face, so for Angeal it's a guilty pleasure to see him gain it bit by bit.

The Assertion is affecting him now too. He should be worried, terrified – they are on their _knees_ in front of this youth – and yet… yet he isn't. He's only increasingly gratified at the sight of Sephiroth going under.

The Ultima smiles, licking his lips and then reaching to touch Sephiroth's hair – then griping it in his fist. Sephiroth's gasp is perfectly audible as his head is pulled forcibly back and his neck is exposed. Holding his breath Angeal stares, expecting the Ultima to reach down and bite Sephiroth's vulnerable throat – but he doesn't. Instead he brushes his cheek against Sephiroth's, to get his lips to his ear, to whisper.

And whisper he does – for a long, long while he speaks directly into the SOLDIER Alpha's ear, holding his head in place with one hand twisting at the long silver hair. There is no way to tell what he's saying, he's speaking too low, but Angeal has a perfect view of Sephiroth's face so he sees the effect it's having. Sephiroth's eyes glaze over fully and after a moment he's forced to close them – but by that time, they're already tearing. In morbid fascination, Angeal stares at the tear tracks, wondering what is causing them – the words or the sheer power of the multiple Assertions? What does it feel like?

Gaia, but he wants to feel it too.

Sephiroth is arching against the Ultima helplessly and his breath is coming in ragged gasps by the time the youth pulls back. For a moment, the Ultima just stares at Sephiroth's face, running a hand over his skin, up to his hair to brush it back so that he can see the SOLDIER's eyes. Whatever he sees in the wide pupils and flushed cheeks, Angeal can't tell, but it seems to satisfy the boy immensely. "Good," he says, and stands up.

Then, standing over the bowed over Sephiroth, he rests his hand on the man's silver hair, bowing his head down and hiding Sephiroth's face in a curtain of silver hair. "Now," the Ultima says, his voice almost gentle. "Stop breathing, Sephiroth."

Angeal's eyes widen as he watches the simple, but instant effect the words have. Sephiroth stops moving, his chest falls still, the sound of his gasps instantly halt. The Ultima doesn't move, waiting and keeping his hand on Sephiroth's head – for a minute, for several, until the lack of air finally has its effect. Sephiroth wavers for a moment before starting to fall to his side, towards the Masamune resting there – only to be caught by the Ultima who keeps him from crashing down long enough to remove the sword and thus the danger.

While the SOLDIER Alpha lies there, on his side with his hair spilling seemingly everywhere, the terrifying youth sets the sword down again and then checks Sephiroth's pulse and breathing, nodding in satisfaction before standing up again. Angeal lets out a breath of relief as he sees that Sephiroth’s chest is moving again – he's resumed breathing in his unconsciousness – but that doesn't make the situation any less terrifying.

The Ultima then turns his attention to Angeal, and under the powerful gaze the SOLDIER second-in-command can't think of anything else. "You are going to take me to your Director's office," he says. "Get up, and go into the elevator."

As Angeal hobbles to his feet, helpless against the command, the Ultima turns to the SOLDIER Thirds and Seconds, who had been watching the proceedings with hazy, half dreamful, half terrified eyes. As Angeal watches, the Ultima sends them all to unconsciousness the exact way he had incapacitated Sephiroth, one by one taking their breath away and waiting for it to have its effect, eventually leaving the SOLDIER First alone with him

"W-why are you… doing this?" Angeal chokes out when the boy comes to join him in the elevator. "H-how?"

"Because I am the Ultima," the kid says, while reaching for Angeal's trousers and going through the pockets until he finds the key card. He swipes it with accustomed smoothness through the reader, and then hits the button for floor fifty-one – and with what little mind he has left Angeal really hopes Lazard isn't there.

If a SOLDIER First couldn't stand the power of this youth's Assertion, then someone un-enhanced like the SOLDIER Director wouldn't have a chance. And the secrets Lazard could reveal…

He isn't there, though. Floor fifty-one has been completely evacuated by the time they make it there, and every office there is empty, including the SOLDIER Director's. That doesn't seem to bother the Ultima though; he just ignores it and walks to Lazard's computer, frowning a bit at the screen. "Cute," he says.

"What?" Angeal somehow manages to ask. Is he getting used to the Assertion? He can't move, can't lift his arms, can't _fight_ but… he can think. He can _think_. Is the Ultima _letting_ him, or does it have something to do with the duration of the Assertion? He still hadn't been released from it, but he's not on his knees either…

"They locked it," the Ultima answers, taking out a PHS from his pocket, and a short black cable. "That won't change a thing, though. Also… sorry, don't know your name," the Ultima says, flashing him a faint smile. "Just _kneel_."

"And stop breathing?" Angeal asks, even as he falls to his knees on the cool floor – and just as he had been thinking about having kept his thoughts, they start slipping away under the second Assertion, his mind turning slow, and hazy and Gaia, the Ultima is so strong… Stronger than Sephiroth, definitely – no wonder Sephiroth had fallen the way he had, gasping and sobbing. Very soon Angeal feels like he might do the same, under the power holding him down, forcing him to submit, because the tranquillity that comes with it, comes _so fast_.

And then he doesn't care about what the Ultima's goals are anymore or what he's doing with his Director's computer. There is only the floor, him on his knees at the youth's command, and it's all he needs, all he would ever want…

Through the haze Angeal can hear the Ultima working on the computer, doing things he can't even begin to name, and can't see. The minutes pass by in that typing filled haze before an automated voice informs, " _Download complete_ ," and soon after that the Ultima steps away from the computer – and towards him.

"They're sending robots to get me," the Ultima says, his hand on Angeal's hair, holding the short strands in his grip, turning the SOLDIER's face upwards. While Angeal lets out a shuddering breath of contentment, the youth examines his face and his eyes, and then, satisfied, continues, "Even I can't Assert those, so you are going to help me get out of here."

"Yes," the SOLDIER whispers, squirming under the grip; yes, _yes_ he will help, of course, he will fight anything and everyone for the Ultima, of course he will.

"You are going to destroy everything that gets in our way."

" _Yes_."

"You are going to get me out of Midgar safely."

" _Yes_."

"Good," the Ultima says, smiling with satisfaction while Angeal stares up at him reverently. "Get up. It's time to go."

 

* * *

 

 

Zack wakes up in the infirmary, his eyes hazy and his mind drifting in an odd sort of haze. He knows it's the infirmary before even looking around himself – it's the smell, the feeling, the slightest buzz of electricity coming from the nearby machinery, the smell of Mako. Blinking, he tries to remember what happened, what put him here, had he been in a fight?

"Zack Fair?" a voice asks, and he looks down from the ceiling, to a blond haired man standing by the bed. He's not a doctor – he's wearing a suit jacket, not a lab coat. "Welcome back. How are you feeling?"

"Dazed?" Zack more asks than states – and then he remembers why he had lost consciousness. With a gasp he sits up, looking around wildly, trying to find the kid, the not-omega, but… "What the hell?" he asks, his eyes widening as he sees the bed at his right side. It's Kunsel, who looks almost like he's sleeping, except for the monitoring equipment he's been hooked onto. And there, past Kunsel, is another SOLDIER Zack knows – a lower level SOLDIER Third, who is similarly out cold and similarly monitored. And past that guy, there is another.

Almost nervous, Zack looks to his other side – and almost chokes onto the air he's breathing. _Sephiroth_ is lying there with a breathing mask over his nose and mouth and with electrodes all over his forehead, wires going into his hair. Zack has never seen the man up close before – he's seen pictures, heard rumours, seen him from a distance a couple of times, but not _this_ close, and certainly not like this. Sephiroth is so pale that his skin has an almost blue tint to it – he looks… sickly.

And past Sephiroth, there is a long line of beds, all occupied by SOLDIERs, all of whom are out cold – though Sephiroth is the only one with a breathing mask, the only one hooked into an EEG. "What the hell is going on?" Zack asks, turning to the blond, bespectacled man at his bed side.

The man smiles grimly, almost hatefully. "What you are seeing is the after effects of one of the most dangerous attacks on ShinRa ever," he says, looking at the unconscious Sephiroth. "This is what Assertion by someone who calls himself the Ultima does."

"Ultima? But that guy…" Zack murmurs, rubbing at his forehead. The blond kid, the not-omega, the one who had been blinding the other cadets – and Kunsel too. And after figuring it out, Zack had gone into the training room and told the kid to kneel. But the not-omega hadn't and instead…

"What do you remember of the encounter you had with the cadet that put you, training Alpha Kunsel, and the cadets of training group four out cold in training room two in the cadet training level?" the man asks, looking at him closely.

"I, uh… I was talking about him with Kunsel. About that kid, the omega of group four," Zack says, because he can recognise the demand for a report even if this man is nothing like an Alpha. "Because he acted nothing like an omega and I thought he was somehow controlling the other cadets, making them ignore him. But then we talked some more and I realised that the kid was doing the same to Kunsel – because Kunsel should've done something, but he hadn't. So we went in and I tried to Assert the kid without giving him the chance to guard himself."

"I presume you failed," the man says.

"Yeah, the kid didn't bat an eye," Zack mutters and frowns at the memory, at the oddity of someone so _small_ just standing there when he by all rights shouldn't have been. "And when I told him we'd be taking him to see the SOLDIER Alphas he just said no, and made us kneel, Kunsel and me both. And… then he Asserted again."

"Twice?" the blond man asks, his eyes narrowed as he strokes his chin in thought.

"Yeah, with a different order. First he said kneel, then he said down," Zack confirms. "Then he took my key card, said he'd be borrowing it, said he was sorry and thanked me." He looks up, thinking about it. He remembers it pretty clearly – the sensation of the submission is still there. Except now he has his mind – now he _knows_ how impossible the whole thing was. "I'm not sure if I got this right, but he told us not to breathe. And then I… didn't breathe."

The blond man doesn't look surprised in the slightest. "The cadet in question, who refers to himself as the Ultima, somehow has the power to negate a person's survival instincts – it's not the first time he's managed to force someone into unconsciousness by telling them not to breathe," he says and looks around. "Everyone here was given the same order by this so called Ultima."

"Everyone?" Zack asks in horror, turning to look at Sephiroth.

"Everyone," the blond man agrees. "After he Asserted over you, he used your key card to get to level fifty, where he Asserted over a number of SOLDIER Third and Second Class members. We believe it was a bait, to get one or more of the First Class SOLDIERs to him, and it worked – both General Sephiroth and Commander Angeal made their way to the fiftieth level."

"Angeal?" the Second Class SOLDIER asks, looking up at the man. "Where is Angeal? He's not here; where is he? Is he alright?!"

"We… don't know," the man admits. "From the security tapes we know that the Ultima successfully Asserted over both the Commander and the General – though in the case of the General, it took multiple repeated Assertions." At that point, the bespectacled man scowls. "That is why Sephiroth is in this state," he adds. "After the multiple Assertions, the Ultima spent some time speaking to him, possibly giving him orders – ending with the order not to breathe. Because of the stacked Assertions, the orders and then the forced unconsciousness, the General didn't simply lose his awareness – he's in a coma. And the doctors say it is a miracle he did not suffer a stroke."

Zack swallows. Coma. Sephiroth is in… a coma. "Why is he here, and not in a hospital?" the Second asks, confused – because this is the level fifty infirmary, not even the proper hospital floor of the building – there's barely space for ten people in the small infirmary of the SOLDIER residential floor, which is there mostly to take care of the minor injuries SOLDIERs get while sparring.

"He's safest here, surrounded by other SOLDIERs – his betas, gammas, deltas… his people," the blond man says darkly. "Anywhere else and he'd be in constant threat from any ambitious Alpha, being in the state he is."

"Oh," Zack murmurs and grimaces. Yeah, there is that – the most common reason for Alpha deaths in their modern era. A powerful Alpha with his defences down – in sleep, in sickness, in unconsciousness – is just too tempting a target for another Alpha and a lot of times… people's instincts just get the better of them. "And… and Angeal?" he asks uneasily, worriedly.

"The Ultima took him with him. Angeal then took out the security drones sent in by the Weapons Department, under the Ultima's orders. They escaped ShinRa HQ an hour or so ago, and we lost their movements near the border between the eighth and seventh sectors."

"Shit," Zack murmurs, running a shaking hand through his hair and glancing towards the unconscious Sephiroth. He had felt that the kid was strong, unnaturally strong, but _this_? Not just Asserting Sephiroth into a _coma_ but actually commanding Angeal to attack ShinRa? "This shouldn't be _possible_ , should it?" he asks, uneasy.

"No, it shouldn't be, but it happened," the blond man says darkly. "And now we are facing an unknown threat of immense Assertive power, who is holding a SOLDIER First Class, the second Alpha of SOLDIER, as a hostage as well as using him as his tool of escape. So anything you know about the Ultima, anything you might've observed, is highly valuable."

"His name is Cloud Strife," Kunsel's voice interjects before Zack can open his mouth. Together, Zack and the blond man both turn to face him, to see him staring up at the ceiling with a mixed expression of guilt and self-loathing on his face. "He's fifteen years of age, born in August – he's from a west continent town named Nibelheim."

"Training Alpha?" the blond man asks, frowning. "How do you know this?"

"I noticed there was something weird about him a while ago, so I dug around," the training Alpha admits. "I know those records are usually sealed for the duration of training, but I had to know, had to see if there was something there that explained why he acted the way he does."

"And did it explain?"

"No. Not at all. There's absolutely nothing remarkable about him, except that… thing. His Assertive power," Kunsel says and sighs, closing his eyes. "This is my fault – if I had told someone, dug deeper, done _something_ …"

"It isn't. That kid was blinding you, too," Zack says with a frown.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better? I was his training Alpha and I didn't… do anything," Kunsel grunts and sits up on his bed. "I'm sorry, sir," he says to the blond man. "I've failed my duties as the training Alpha."

"At ease, SOLDIER. If what we've so far observed of this Cloud Strife can be relied upon, it is entirely possible that nothing could've been changed," the man says, while Zack wonders who the hell he is anyway. "All it would've done was sped up the inevitable, and he would've simply done what he did faster."

"What… did he do? Uh, sir?" Zack asks, frowning. "I mean, he Asserted a lot of SOLDIERs, I get that, but… why?"

"To get to my computer terminal," the man answers. "There have been two break-ins into ShinRa computers in the last few weeks – both of which we now know were committed by this Ultima, this Cloud Strife. We do not know what he was after precisely, or what he _did_ , because so far he has been rather thorough in covering his tracks and hiding his appearance. But the target of this attack was my computer terminal. He used your key card to get to level fifty, then lured someone with higher access there – the SOLDIER Firsts – after which he used Angeal's key card to get to level fifty-one, and eventually, to my computer."

"Okay," Zack murmurs, blinking. An office on level fifty-one? Oh, _hell,_ the guy in front of him is Director Lazard Deusericus – the boss of SOLDIER. Of _course_. "So… he was after some secret data on your computer?" the SOLDIER Second Class asked, to cover his own embarrassment.

"Possibly," the man says. "We know he downloaded something, but…" he shakes his head. "That is all. It could have been anything, however – I and therefore my terminal have the highest security access in the company except for the Department Heads and, of course, the President himself. It gives me – and the terminal – rather free access to some of the company's most… delicate and secret files and data."

"Yikes," Zack says and then scowls. What the hell does this matter, though? Angeal's _missing_. "Sir, permission to get up and go after the guy," he says, already reaching to get the IV off his hand.

"Denied," the man says without a pause. "I'm sorry, SOLDIER, but it can only do more harm – if you did find them, the Ultima would only Assert over you again."

"So all we can do is wait and let them go?" Zack snarls.

"We can wait for the Turks to find them. And once they have been found, we will wait for the machines of the Weapons Development Department to take them down," the Director answers.

"If the guy has Angeal on a leash, that's never going to happen, you know," Zack says with a snort. "You could have an army of machines and it won't be enough to take Angeal down."

The Director grimaces at that and shakes his head. "We can hope. At the very least, they will not be able to escape the city so easily," he says. "At some point we will find them."

Zack opens his mouth to argue, only to be stopped when the doors to the room are practically blown open. As he looks, a group of medics rushes in a gurney with a very familiar person lying prostrate on it. "Angeal!" he cries, almost getting up from the bed, only to be held back by a halting motion from the Director.

"Where was he found?" the Director demands, as a couple of Turks follow the gurney in.

"He was in the central square in sector eight," a man with long black hair and a tilaka on his forehead says with a grim expression. "We found him by the fountain. By the looks of it, he was ordered to go there alone and _then_ stop breathing." Then, with a grimace, the man adds, "And we have no idea which way he came from – he just turned up there, seemingly from nowhere."

"And the perpetrator?" Director Lazard asks in a tense voice, while the medics make room between Sephiroth and another unconscious SOLDIER, pushing Angeal's gurney between them.

The Turk shakes his head grimly. "The Ultima is gone."


	4. Chapter 4

 When Genesis is recalled from Wutai, he does not expect the reason. The summons had been extremely vague, and he had expected that the President or some other higher up with too much time on their hand had decided that he wasn't doing his job fast enough, and that Sephiroth would be sent in his place – it wouldn't have been the first time the decision makers would've preferred the superior Alpha to him, the weakest of the three Alphas and thus the least significant.

What he finds, though, is not what he expects.

"How long has he been like this?" he asks, staring down at the silent, still, and unconscious Sephiroth, not quite able to wrap his mind around the fact that his rival, his superior, an Alpha as immensely powerful as Sephiroth… is in a _coma_.

"Almost a week now," Angeal answers from the other bed, staring at his hands. He's out of uniform – well, about as out of uniform as you can be when all you own are uniforms. He doesn't have his sword, or his SOLDIER logo embossed belt, and his shoulder guards are gone, which is about as good as you can get. Out of uniform – officially on _leave_ , except no, not quite. "They don't know why," the former second-in-command says quietly.

"Hm," Genesis answers, frowning as he sits down on the opposite bed beside Sephiroth's, running a gloved hand over his face. Angeal is on _leave_ because he is under suspicion – an hour spent alone with this Ultima is just too much for ShinRa to trust him, especially since it is thanks to Angeal that they know the Ultima can give _long term_ orders – orders that are only followed when certain terms are met. Angeal had walked, on orders, to a certain place – to the Sector Eight square – and then had put himself out of consciousness by stopping breathing, due to the Ultima's orders.

So now ShinRa is concerned – terribly, horribly afraid – that Angeal might have a time bomb ticking in his head, a forgotten order which he himself doesn't know anything about, but which certain situations might trigger. Like meeting the President of ShinRa, for example.

Sephiroth is pretty much the same – the Ultima had spoken for a long while directly into Sephiroth's ear, which had been followed by the _former_ General's complete breakdown. They have no idea what had been said, what Sephiroth had heard, what he might've internalised, but it's enough to make pretty much everyone scared. The fact that Sephiroth is _still_ in a coma even though there is no physical reason for it doesn't help.

So, they had recalled Genesis to take charge of SOLDIER, thanks to the two superior Alphas being under such suspicion.

"This is… quite the mess," Genesis mutters, wishing he hadn't left his copy of LOVELESS in his quarters – he wants a book to flip through, pages to fiddle with, something to look at that doesn’t make him feel like he was entirely out of his depth.

"You're telling me," Angeal murmurs and with a sigh looks up. He looks tired, _aged_ in a way that has nothing to do with his face. But then he would. Angeal has _always_ enjoyed ShinRa's highest confidence, the love of their SOLDIERs, their admiration and adoration, and being under suspicion and _knowing_ that there is a damn good reason for it must be killing him from the inside. "You'll do fine, Genesis," Angeal says. "Just… listen to Lazard."

Genesis snorts at that and irritably removes his gloves. Lazard, their little civilian supervisor. Well, Lazard is the Director of SOLDIER for a good reason: he knows the business, can manage the missions, and is smart as all hell. Genesis knows he will listen to him. But it's not the same as listening to Angeal and Sephiroth, in being under their secure, comfortable command. He can't even ask for Angeal's help, not really, because Angeal is being trusted with nothing – he's not even allowed to leave floor fifty, and Gaia help him if he wants to get access to a computer.

Genesis has always wanted to be strong – he had been one of the rare omegas who had never been gripped by that instinct of utter submission and had managed to break loose from the rank. He wanted to be strong, still does, still sought out new magic to use, new forms to master – new summons to own – but this… this is different. Because despite everything, he isn't really an Alpha, not like Angeal, not like Sephiroth. The ability to rule and command – and to do so wisely – has never been his, and really, he has never even wanted it. He was satisfied being the inferior Alpha, the sort-of-beta to Angeal and Sephiroth. He has been _comfortable_ at it. Even if he'd never say it out loud.

"What am I going to do?" Angeal voices his own, internal struggle with a sigh, staring into the distance. "What am I going to _do_ , Genesis? What can I do?"

"I don't know, Angeal," the now-in-command Alpha says with a shake of his head. He doesn't know what he's going to do either, but he knows what he _has_ to do.

He _has_ to figure out a way to protect SOLDIER from the Ultima's Assertions. Should the boy pop up again, they have to be prepared. He _has_ to figure out a way to stop his orders from affecting people. Some form of new suppressor that no one can Assert through. He'd work together with the Science Department if he had to, with Weapons Development even though he hates Scarlet with a burning passion. He'd have to.

And he'd prepare. Next time, they couldn't give the Ultima time to Assert. The kid was small, physically weak – both his appearance and his cadet records prove it. The kid has no physical power whatsoever. They'd use that to their advantage and _get_ the brat before he had any time to speak. Attack first, ask questions later, that was what they had to do, even if it went against all the codes of honour Angeal had taught to their SOLDIERs.

Absently, Genesis wonders if he can justify putting SOLDIERs into firearms training. They could use a sniper – someone who can take out the Ultima from a safe, Assertion proof distance. Maybe some of the infantry snipers could be reassigned to SOLDIER for a while – he has seen them in action in Wutai and, physical strength aside, it can be damn impressive to put someone down at fifteen hundred meters…

A soft sigh brings him out of his thoughts and plans and he looks expectantly at Angeal, only to hear a screech of electronics as the EEG registers Sephiroth's awakening. Both he and Angeal are on their feet at the same time, "Sephiroth," falling from their lips as they move to their superior Alpha's sides.

"W-what?" Sephiroth asks, hazily – and to see the look on his superior's face gives Genesis almost physical pain, it's so unlike Sephiroth. The pain isn't caused by any grief, though – but the internal struggle he has almost managed to avoid so far, by thinking of other things, by forcing himself not to think about _this_.

But it flares inside him, from a small flame into a roaring blaze. _He's weak, Sephiroth is weak. Kill him now, before he regains control._

Alpha instincts are such a _bitch_ at times.

The ultimate Alpha of SOLDIER seems to recall some of himself, though, as he blinks rapidly and the look of hazy confusion fades from his face, to be replaced by smooth coolness. "What?" he asks again, a bit stronger, while Angeal takes off the oxygen mask from his face.

"Assert first," Angeal says, putting the mask away. "Questions after."

The superior Alpha blinks, looking between Genesis and his second in command. " _On your knees_ ," he says, and despite the fact that Sephiroth is weakened, that he's lying on a hospital bed, not even _sitting_ … they go down.

Even directly out of a _coma_ the guy is still more powerful… but it's not as strong as Sephiroth's Assertions usually are. Genesis sighs a bit at the odd, foreign feeling of the weaker-than-usual Assertion, because his mind doesn't haze up at all, and the blissful feeling of submission doesn't come. Granted, he can fight it even when Sephiroth is at his strongest – he is an Alpha himself, after all, but… the lack of it is telling.

Sephiroth holds them down for a while, until he's satisfied that dominance has been established, and then releases them with a soft, "Get up," before looking at Angeal. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?" the former second-in-command asks. He doesn't reach for the button to call the doctors or even the nurse, of course not, and Genesis doesn't either. This, these first moments, are _theirs_ , and they need to get their superior Alpha on his feet before he meets with _civilians_.

"I remember…" Sephiroth trails away and then scowls, first at his hazy memories by the looks of irritation – and then in pure fury, as he sorts through them. "Ultima," he growls, sitting up.

"Yes," Angeal sighs, looking relieved – and Genesis is too. If Sephiroth can feel angry about the Ultima, then his mind can't be completely addled. "He Asserted over us – multiple times over you. He also… spoke to you for a while. Do you remember that?"

"Spoke to me? I don't…" Sephiroth scowls, lifting the IV adorned hand and running his fingers through his uplifted bangs. "I remember his voice, I remember him talking to me, but I can't recall the words." With a grunt he presses the palm of his hand hard against his forehead. "He was telling me something."

"No shit," Genesis murmurs, and shakes his head when Angeal sends him a look. "Sephiroth," he says, ignoring the warning look. "You do realise what it means when someone that powerful tells you something and then you can't remember it later?"

Sephiroth lets out a slow, almost hissing breath through his teeth, nodding and then looking up, at him and then at Angeal. "What happened after he made me fall unconscious?"

"He didn't just make you fall unconscious, Sephiroth – you've been in a coma for a week," Angeal answers, sitting down on the bed beside the superior Alpha. "But after you fell under, he forced me to take him to Lazard's office – he did something with the computer, downloaded something, but they don't know what. After that, he escaped – and used me as his means of escape."

"What?" Sephiroth asks quietly, before his eyes take in the lack of shoulder guards, and the lack of the belt. "Why are you out of uniform?" he asks, suspicious.

"The Ultima ordered Angeal to bust through anything that got in his way. Quite a bit of property damage was done that day," Genesis answers with a scowl. "The Turks lost them both somewhere between sectors, and an hour later Angeal showed up in Sector eight and passed out there. Angeal spent an _hour_ with the Ultima and no one has any idea what they did – or what the Ultima might've told him."

"I can remember some things – but only vaguely. This street, that building, him telling me to go there, do that… but not all of it. I'm currently under suspicion of being compromised," Angeal says. "We know the Ultima can order someone to do something _later_ – he did it to me, by ordering me to stop breathing only _after_ I reached my target area. Which means he might've installed… triggers that I can't remember." He looks significantly at Sephiroth. "And he talked to you, too."

"Ah," Sephiroth murmurs and looks up at Genesis. "So, you're here to take command while Angeal and I are compromised."

"That's about it," Genesis agrees with a scowl. "Can't you remember anything of what he said to you?"

Sephiroth thinks about it and then shakes his head, glaring pure fury at the sheets of his bed. "Do they know where the Ultima is?"

"Not a clue. He's either hiding _very_ well in Midgar, or he's long gone," Genesis says. "The Turks are investigating all the leads of course – they even sent a team to the guy's hometown to question his mother and everything."

"We know where his hometown is?" Sephiroth asks, looking up.

"We know his name, almost everything about his past – the arrogant bastard got into ShinRa by enrolling into the cadet program," Genesis snorts, shaking his head and sitting back down again. "His records were unsealed the day after the whole thing happened."

"His name is Cloud Strife, and he's from a little west continent town named Nibelheim – he has a mother, who the Turks are probably already questioning," Angeal says.

"Though judging by what we've heard, it's a bit doubtful that it will be of any use," Genesis mutters. "The brat can blind SOLDIERs. A little civilian woman would have no chance against him – if she knows anything, I'll eat my book. But they'll interrogate her and probably stake out the whole town, just in case the bastard shows up. At this point, it is pretty much the only lead we have."

The superior Alpha nods, thinking about it for a moment before reaching to rip the IV from his hand. "What is the company agenda concerning the Ultima?" he asks, turning on the bed to stand up.

"Capture him. The Turks want to know what he was doing with the terminals and the Science Department wants to _dissect_ him, and figure out what makes him tick. Hojo's practically drooling to get his hands on him," Genesis answers with disgust. "But if capture is impossible – and it probably is, considering everything we know so far… well, they would rather have him dead than walking about, being what he is."

"But they don't know where to find him. Unless the guy is stupid enough to walk directly into Nibelheim, there’s very little hope of doing either," Angeal says, very grim.

 

* * *

 

 

The flowers are dying. That is what takes Tseng the longest time to really grasp about the fact that the last Ancient had just up and vanished, with no warning and no clue as to what had happened, or where she had gone. The flowers she had tended to so carefully for _years_ now in the abandoned, ruined church in the sector five slums are _dying_. And not just drying up, there is still water – he's even considered watering them himself, but…

They look like they're just rotting away, without the Ancient there to tend to them.

"Why, Aerith," he murmurs with a frown. Why had she just abandoned the flowers?

 She wasn't taken, he knows that much – they had performed all possible investigations, at the places she and her mother frequented, at her mother's work place in the mill where she used to sew, at their house. It wasn't a kidnapping – they had packed, and left. And it wasn't just them, but a few of their neighbours, some random people from the slums, they had all just up and left – and not just left. Most people when they moved left _some_ traces – records, tickets, new addresses, something. Not these people. All together about forty people had just disappeared from the slums, and if the evidence was to be trusted it was as if they had vanished into _thin air_.

She must've used her powers, the powers even ShinRa couldn't completely comprehend. Perhaps even the same power her mother had used to get Aerith out of ShinRa in the first place, all those years ago – still no one knew how it had happened, they had been in their cell one moment, and gone the next and it had taken a long while to find where Aerith was, and what had happened to Ifalna. Had Aerith now learned to use the same power, or had she known it all this time?

Has she finally gotten enough of being watched by the Turks, of being monitored by the company? Has she finally decided to fight for her freedom?

Why _now_ , when ShinRa is already in a state of disarray? SOLDIER is the backbone of ShinRa, and the Ultima has pretty much crippled them. Sephiroth and Angeal are both untrustworthy until they know what might've happened, what they might've been _told_ by the Ultima. And for all the investigating, for all the digging, they still don't know _anything_. They know Cloud's Strife's past, but nothing about his present. Where do his powers originate from? How can they _exist_ in the first place?

And what had he been after?

It is obvious he had gotten into the SOLDIER cadet program to get easy access to ShinRa's resources, to whatever he had been after – and the fact that he had managed to do it in the first place was telling. Not only could he dominate _everyone_ , but he could pretend not to – could ignore the biological imperatives of Assertion entirely, could pretend to be weak when he wasn't. It’s like he… isn't even human, with how many _rules_ of human instincts he is breaking.

But then, if Cloud Strife isn't human, what _is_ he?

Not an Ancient – Ancients neither have Assertive power, nor do they fall under them. It has always made it difficult for the Turks to deal with Aerith, because she feels off to them, like she isn't even there while feeling like she is so _there_ that it is impossible to handle. Aerith feels like an Alpha and an omega at the same time, while feeling like neither – and it is _impossible_ to even try to Assert her. She is just beyond it.

Judging by what they know so far, Cloud Strife isn't like that – he is the total opposite, so deeply in the hierarchy that he is above it. None of those who had met him could tell _what_ he is. Not an omega, certainly, but… not an Alpha either. Even Sephiroth, who had experienced the worst of the youth's Assertion, said that Cloud Strife didn't feel like an Alpha, not really. "Ultima is actually… a very fitting description," Sephiroth had said. "I managed to fight him for a while, but his power was undeniable. _Ultimate_."

Ultimate – and not just _ultimate Alpha_ like Sephiroth, but simply _Ultimate_. The Ultima. It isn't much to go with.

Tseng jerks slightly as his phone lets out a ring, and quickly lifts it to his ear. "Yes?" he asks, frowning.

"We're done with Missus Strife. She doesn't know a thing," Reno says by way of greeting. "And the town nearly laughed us out when we suggested that Cloud Strife might be a bit stronger than they assume – the kid's been an omega all his life here, and they don't think it would ever change. Missus Strife is pretty sure we've got the wrong person."

"Do we?" Tseng asks, frowning – maybe the Ultima had assumed Cloud Strife's identity. It would kill _all_ the leads they had, but it would also explain some things.

"No. I've seen baby pictures, man. We got the right guy," Reno answers and Tseng frowns. "But it's a bit weird though. Because I think he _was_ an omega here. He's got all the signs in all the picture that were taken after he came into his Assertive power – in every picture he's the perfect example of an omega, slouching and wincing and trying to escape the frames, you know. Looks like he doesn't have a spine, with the way he's always squirming. Nothing like he was in ShinRa. And I've seen no signs of blinding here – and I've talked to a few kids here who had the habit of beating the guy up on a regular basis. They wouldn't have been able to do that, if he was the Ultima here."

The Turk beta frowns in consideration. "You're thinking that he gained his power afterwards?"

"Yeah, somewhere between leaving Nibelheim a few months back, and entering Midgar," Reno agrees. "I got the route he was planning to take after leaving and the number of the guy who gave him a ride from Nibelheim to Corel. You want me to check it out?"

"Do you think you've exhausted the resources of Nibelheim?"

"Pretty much, yeah. Everyone's saying the same things and no one's showing any hints of knowing anything more. Strife was the town pariah, and everyone has the same story to tell. Whatever happened to the bastard, it didn't happen here."

"Alright. Follow your instincts, but leave someone in Nibelheim, in case he goes back," Tseng says, eyeing the dying, rotting flowers with mixed feelings. "And keep me apprised."

"Will do, boss," Reno says and hangs up.

Eyeing his phone for a moment, Tseng pushes it into his pocket and turns his back to the flowers. Aerith can wait – she has never been a ShinRa priority, and despite the earlier interest Hojo had shown towards her mother, it isn't duplicated in her. The Ancient's immunity to Assertion is interesting, and maybe it will be a priority eventually – but right now all eyes are on the Ultima, on his power and on the possibility that maybe it is a power others could have too.

And if it can't be copied, then ShinRa would see that it simply ceases being.

"You picked a rotten time," Tseng comments at the empty church. "Or… maybe the best possible time," he adds, grimly. "Well, where ever you are, I hope you're taking care of yourself."

With that said, he heads towards the exit. He has work to do.

 

* * *

 

 

"Wake up," a soft, distant voice orders, and suddenly Vincent is staring at the inner lining of his coffin. It takes his mind a moment to regain full awareness – he has been sleeping for so long – but whatever had been done to him had been done entirely too well. With awareness returns his senses, his odd abilities, and he knows instantly that there is someone _sitting_ on top of his coffin lid, directly above him. He goes immediately tense, his mind turning fast and furious.

The mansion has been empty for so long, he hadn't expected anyone to come back anymore. Especially not for him, not after Hojo had abandoned his experiments and left him behind. And yet there is someone here, someone _on top of his coffin_ , speaking to him. And not just anyone, but someone very high level, judging by the way a simply spoken order could have an effect on him. An Alpha – a high level Alpha at that.

"I don't have much time, so just listen to me," the voice says – it's soft, young, _odd_. Not quite aged enough to carry that sort of power. How long has it been? It must have been a great while – and ShinRa must've come a long way in that time, if someone who sounded so young could have this sort of power. It disgusts him to think what might've been done to achieve it – how many people, how many _children_ had died in those experiments?

Then the voice continues, "I'm going to tell you about Lucrecia's son, and how ShinRa will destroy the planet," it says, emotionless except for a slight weariness, and Vincent jerks in the coffin, his eyes widening, his breath hitching. Those were not the words he had been expecting, and while he tries to formulate a question – was Lucrecia's son alive? Where was he, what had happened to him, how long had it been… the voice continues, "It's a long story and I might be found at any moment, so I'm going to give you the quick version and please don't interrupt me."

Inside the darkness, Vincent shifts and says nothing, lifting his leather gloved human hand to rest against the inner lining of the coffin lid. He can feel the other's body warmth there, through the layers of cloth and wood – more thanks to his inhuman senses than anything else. How long has he been sitting there? It doesn't matter. Not if the speaker knows about Lucrecia's son.

And he does. "It's been about twenty five years now, since you were shot," he starts. "Lucrecia gave birth shortly after that, and the boy was named Sephiroth. I am not sure if she ever saw him though – due to the experiments and the stuff she and Hojo put into her, she didn't… live for long afterwards."

Vincent sighs. He had known, somehow he had known, but to hear it spoken, to hear it confirmed… he shuts his eyes and breathes in slowly, very slowly. Lucrecia is dead.

"To say that Hojo raised Sephiroth is a bit of a false statement. Sephiroth grew up, sure, but I don't think anyone did much raising there," the voice continues. "I think the experiments continued through his childhood, either here or in Midgar, ShinRa's new throne of power. Either way, Sephiroth grew quite powerful – he is the ultimate Alpha of SOLDIER now, ShinRa's legion of Mako enhanced super soldiers."

Vincent opens his eyes again, forcibly pushing aside Lucrecia's fate. Had ShinRa changed their motive for the SOLDIER program? The reason they used Jenova was to produce a warrior that would be, like the Ancients, above the hierarchy, a soldier that could not be Asserted. Had that changed? It must've, if Sephiroth had ended up as an _Alpha_.

"As for ShinRa… they control the planet now. All together there are five reactors all over the world, plus the eight reactors that support Midgar," the voice continues with a sigh. "And they are killing the planet. I know it sounds like mumbo jumbo, but it is the truth. The energy they suck up is energy that Gaia needs to _exist_ and currently we're about two hundred years from planetary destruction, thanks to the Mako reactors. Though of course… it didn't take Gaia nearly so long to die."

"What?" Vincent whispers, confused, barely audible.

"Let me tell you about the future," the voice then says and Vincent can hear him shift – and the former Turk is suddenly aware that the speaker is _lying_ down on top of the coffin. On top of him.

"In a couple of years or so, Sephiroth will go insane, learning about the things done to him," the speaker continues, "He will destroy a town – this town, to be exact – and then die without actually dying. He will fall into the Mako in the reactor, but he won't dissolve into it like he should and so his mind will survive. Meanwhile, Hojo will launch a project to re-make Sephiroth, his greatest creation, through cloning and putting what little of Sephiroth's genes he has into other people."

There is a moment of quiet. "Lots of things happen in between," he murmurs. "They don't really matter. Five years from then, roughly, Sephiroth will start moving again, with the goals of reuniting Jenova's cells, his so called alien Mother, and of destroying the world like she originally planned. She isn't, never was, an Ancient after all," he says and sighs. "Fast forward a bit, and Sephiroth tries to destroy the world with Meteor, the most powerful offensive Materia in existence. Nearly succeeds too, the damn thing almost crashes onto Midgar, but another superior Materia, Holy, is used to save Gaia. The ultimate defence mechanism, it uses the very energy the Mako reactors pump up – the Lifestream – as a weapon."

Again, the speaker is silent for a long time, while Vincent frowns at the coffin lid, not entirely sure what he's listening to, or if he's seriously supposed to believe any of it.

"The planet starts dying almost immediately after," the voice finally continues. "The Mako reactors plus the strain Holy put on the Lifestream was too much. At first, we didn't really even notice it, it was so small, so unnoticeable. But then plants started dying, stopped growing here and there. People stopped giving birth, stopped getting pregnant. The same thing happened to animals. Magic stopped having an effect, anything based on Mako just stopped working – medicine too. Potions were pretty rare by that time and then they just… rotted. Everything died… So we came up with a means to stop it. Or rather, to prevent it."

Vincent scowls in disgust. This is ludicrous. He was woken by a lunatic. An _Alpha_ lunatic at that.

"I knew you in the future. I was the head of the party that went out of its way to stop Sephiroth – we found you while we were after him, and you joined us," the voice says suddenly. "Vincent Valentine. You were _my_ beta," he adds, sounding almost sad. "You never did tell us much about yourself – we were always so busy. But I know you loved Lucrecia, I know you stood up against Hojo, and that is why you died. I know you were one of the best Turks who ever lived, your sniper records are probably still unbroken. Your old partner, Veld, is the Director of the Turks right now – thinks you were killed in action. I suppose you were."

The former Turk shakes his head in the coffin. "What do you want from me?" he asks.

"Hm, I don't know. I just haven't had the chance to talk to someone whom I know I can trust," the voice admits, with a sigh. "And you told me not to leave you here. The future you did. I suppose I'm trying to motivate you to get up."

"You can't trust me," Vincent says darkly.

"Yes I can," the voice laughs, and the body atop the coffin shifts audibly. "Who are you going to tell?"

Vincent hisses, and then winces slightly as he feels the _entities_ inside him shift as well. They're waking up – he's been aware for too long. "Leave," he orders, resting his hand on his chest and grimacing. Already, he can feel their rage, their fury. "Leave me to my slumber. To my punishment," Leave, before they wake up all the way, and he loses control.

"No," the voice says almost flippantly. "They're stirring, aren't they? The beasts inside you."

The ex-Turk winces and then grimaces at the lid. "If you know about them, then you should know to get the _hell_ out of here," he snarls at the coffin lid. "If they wake up, this coffin won't hold them." And even if the speaker is a high level Alpha, the beasts would _tear him apart_. Hierarchy didn't much matter to mindless monsters, after all.

"I know how to control them."

The words, so simply spoken, freeze Vincent in his tracks and while the beasts shift inside him, getting closer to waking up, he stares at the coffin lid, unseeing. "You do?" he asks, hesitant, suspicious. He has been trying _so long_ to control them, to keep them from raging. So far every time he had woken up they had gained control over him, so easily, so fast. True, they had only had other monsters to tear apart, the beasts that bred in the shadows of the ShinRa mansion, but…

"I had to learn, when you were my beta. It’s a bit… crude. But effective," the voice says, and shifts again – sitting up and then jumping off. "Come on. I'm guessing we don't have much time."

Vincent hesitates for a moment, but only a moment – the certainty in the speaker's voice assures him of his conviction. And if the speaker can't deliver what he's promising, then it'd be on his head, he'd suffer the consequences – and Vincent would be left alone, to manage his beasts in sleep once more. With that in mind, he lifts his hands, and pushes the coffin lid off.

He doesn't get the chance to sit, or even look around for the speaker. The moment the lid is off something launches itself at him, and the gunman's head collides with the bottom of the coffin, hard. He gasps, more with surprise than anything else – and then the gasp is caught somewhere in his throat as his breathing is forcibly stopped by hands gripping tightly at his throat. Gasping for a breath he can't draw, Vincent stares up with horror, which fades into shocked confusion when he sees the blond haired youth sitting astride his chest.

The youth is _smiling_. Choking him, and _smiling_

"Relax," the youth says, and his fingers clench harder, making Vincent jerk and try to wring himself free. He isn't sure how, but somehow the youth managed to pin his hands beneath his knees when he had attacked, leaving him rather effectively held down. Not effectively enough, though, since his feet and legs are still free – free to push upwards, to try and throw the youth off.

"Relax, Vincent!" the youth snaps when he tries just that, clamping his knees around Vincent's torso to hold on. "Relax and give in. I am not going to kill you, just _relax_!"

Vincent doesn't want to – he doesn't want to die – but he can already feel it coming over him. He's always been more receptive towards physical domination than verbal, and that sweet tranquillity is already coming over him. The youth is small, light – he could've thrown him off, should've. But the hands on his throat are so certain, so firm – they know just how much strength to put into the act and where to push to constrict his windpipe and stop his breath, and how to do so without causing pain. Skilled. _Experienced_.

Shuddering, Vincent closes his eyes and feels his body slowly turning lax. Oh, it's been so long, so very long… no one had ever done _this_ to him and he never would've asked, but he remembers so very well how Veld used to hold him down, so very similar, physically stronger, but somehow… less effective. Because somehow this youth knows just what to do, and Veld never had.

"Good," the youth whispers, leaning lower, speaking almost against Vincent's cheek. He does even _that_ just the way Vincent likes it. The younger man's physical presence isn't very great, but he's using it just right, getting just close enough to almost smother, to block the world out – to condense everything into himself and leave Vincent with nothing else. "Now listen to them."

Grimacing half in discomfort and half in pleasure, the gunman strains against the hold and then he hears it – nothing. Blinking, he pauses in his instinctual struggle, to listen a little closer. _Nothing_. The beasts inside him, so close to waking up, are quiet. Quiet, still, and… terrified. As they should be – his mind is going blank now, with more than just submission; he can't _breathe_ after all.

"Animal instincts," the youth on top of him explains, relaxing his hold just enough so that Vincent can drag in a shuddering breath, but keeping his hands there, his fingers still on those vulnerable spots. "Verbal Assertion means nothing to them, but this does. This they understand – your throat is theirs after all, and when I have your life in my hands, I have theirs as well." He examines Vincent's face for a moment and then, satisfied by what he sees, he gently strokes his hands over the abused skin of the gunman's throat. "Are you alright?"

Vincent coughs feebly, staring up at him. "That's all it takes?"

"I wouldn't say _all_ ," the youth says, smiling. "The first time is always the easiest. Next time, they'll remember that I didn't kill you, and they'll fight much harder."

"And you know how to keep them from gaining control?" Vincent asks, sounding more hopeful than he would've liked. "Even then?"

"I developed a skill for it, when we were travelling. There were some rather fragile individuals in our group, and I didn't want your beasts to hurt them, so I kept you under control," the youth says and after a moment he shifts back to sit on top of the gunman's knees so that Vincent can sit up. "It's not very pretty, though, nothing as neat as verbal Assertion."

"I've never liked to be verbally Asserted," Vincent murmurs, touching his throat – he can still feel the youth's hands there, squeezing. It makes him shudder.

"I know," the youth says simply.

Vincent grimaces at the knowing tone and then looks at the younger man closely. "Who are you?" he asks. He isn't sure if he believes a word the youth has said to him so far, but… the blond knew how to hold the beasts in check – and could do it, despite being so small, seemingly so weak. Vincent has never been a strong man, never one with great physical strength, but the youth is so much smaller that there was no question which one of them is stronger.

And yet… "You're an… Alpha?" the gunman asks suspiciously, uncertainly.

"I was. I am something else now, and it doesn't care about how strong or weak I am physically," the youth says. "My name is Cloud Strife. Gaia calls me the Ultima."

"The _what_?"

The youth smiles and then shifts up, jumping over the side of the coffin and landing neatly beside it. "I'll explain later, if you really care. Now though I need to get some things from the laboratories and then I need to get out – there is a Turk watching Nibelheim just in case I show up here, and I'd rather get this done before she notices me. If you want to come with me, say so now. If not, then stay here."

Vincent narrows his eyes, taking in his surroundings and what the youth has said so far. A Turk watching for him, and the youth had _started_ out saying that he didn't have much time. So ShinRa was after the blond; after… Cloud? Interesting. "What are you doing here?" he asks, slowly getting up from the coffin.

"Getting some things I need," the young man says, already walking towards the doorway of the chamber. "And you, if you're coming with me."

"And if I do, where are we going? What are we _doing_?"

"We'll be wandering around a bit, collecting some things, nothing too grand," Cloud says. "What we'll do, though… well, we'll save the planet, of course."

"Of course," Vincent murmurs a bit sarcastically, and he has to restrain himself almost physically to stop touching his throat, the still lingering imprints of the youth's hands. How twisted, how _perverse_ did it make him, that he wanted to feel the hands there again, constricting his breath, holding him down?

"Come on, let's mosey. I have stuff to get and you can help me carry it," Cloud says and Vincent can't help but follow.

 

* * *

 

 

Cissnei sighs to herself while taking shelter from the Nibelheim winds behind the corner of the general store. This assignment, while not the worst she's ever had, is definitely not the best either. The weather is miserable, the people are hostile, and the whole assignment is _useless_.

What are the chances that the Ultima would show up in Nibelheim? And if he does, then what? Everyone in ShinRa is under strict orders not to approach, not to engage, not to do a damn thing if they caught so much as a glimpse of the kid with the unearthly Assertive power who had turned ShinRa into a chaotic mess in less than a day. If the Ultima did show up, all she'd be able to do was hide and maybe watch and possibly report and… then what? Follow him?

The thought makes her uneasy – and not just because she's seen the effect the Ultima's infiltration had on ShinRa's strongest, the SOLDIERs. Even if Sephiroth is out of the coma now, the fact remains that the Ultima, a flimsy little kid smaller than _her_ had put him in it. Cissnei is a gamma, sure, and she's a damn good gamma at that, to the point where Tseng lets her fly solo without a partner to hinder her, but… there are powers she doesn't want to tempt, risks she doesn't want to take, not even for the company.

But of course, knowing where the Ultima was would be better than having no idea, even if they couldn't do much about it. If the youth showed up here then at least the theory that he had left Midgar would be confirmed.

Sighing again, Cissnei lifts the collar of her suit jacket up, wishing she had packed something warmer. Giving a last glance at the town square, which was empty of people, she turns her back to it, and begins making her way through the buildings. If the Ultima does show up, she doubts very much that he'd do so in the town square. If he has any brain on him – and the effectiveness of his infiltration and the fact that they _still_ don't know what he had been after tells them that he does – he would go about his approach the roundabout, stealthy way. Though why come back at all? To see his mother, a woman who has no idea what her son even was?

Thinking about Missus Strife makes Cissnei feel dirty in the way only Turk duties can. The woman is innocent – and admirable. She's a hard working woman, the sort who has gotten everything she has by sweat, blood and tears. The sort of woman Cissnei would've loved to be, if she hadn't already been doing what she loves to do. And they had pretty much destroyed that hard working, innocent woman's life by showing her the proof of her son's illegal activities.

"Cloud? My Cloud?" she had asked over and over again, and the disbelief and distress still echoes in Cissnei's head.

But there is no going around it. The Ultima is Cloud Strife, the same Cloud Strife who in Missus Strife's photos smiles shyly and tries to run away from the camera. An impossible man, impossible criminal, who Asserts way beyond his rightful strength, who negates survival instincts, and who can turn people into his puppets by words alone. Impossible, and terrifying – especially so since they have no idea how it's possible, or what his goals really are.

Folding her arms and tucking her fingers into her armpits to keep them warm, Cissnei begins making her way along the outskirts of the town, towards the ShinRa mansion. Idly she wonders if Reno has had any luck in Corel, or if Tseng had found out anything new by questioning the SOLDIERs – if they yet knew what the Ultima had done to General Sephiroth and Commander Hewley. How badly are they compromised? Bad enough for indefinite leave, for imprisonment – for something worse?

It will destroy ShinRa's morale, if this incident ends up with two of the three Alphas put to death because they simply can't be trusted anymore.

She's still thinking about it, when a flicker of red catches her eye from somewhere to her left. Blinking, she turns to face it, and then freezes at the sight of two individuals. The taller, black haired man catches her eyes first – the red cape and bandana are too noticeable, the golden boots with their pointed ends too conspicuous for her to _avoid_ being drawn. It is the other individual that makes her freeze though – because she's seen entirely too many pictures and videos, the files have gone through her hands too many times for her not to recognise Cloud Strife, the Ultima.

Oddly enough, the first thing she thinks is that he's changed his clothing – but of course he would've. Most of the pictures and videos they have of him show him in a SOLDIER cadet's uniform, but that is a disguise the youth doesn't need anymore, and which can only hinder him. Instead he now wears a dark blue turtle neck vest and dark grey cargo pants, his footwear changed into sturdy hiking boots, rather than the ShinRa issued army boots he had been wearing previously.

 Then reality catches up with her and she flings herself into the cover of a nearby tree, praying that they hadn't seen her. Peering around the tree's trunk very carefully, she sighs with relief – they are talking, not paying any attention to their surroundings. The taller, red caped man is carrying a metal box in his arms, frowning at the blond youth who is smiling easily up at him, looking almost like the simple youth he pretended to be in ShinRa.

With an inward curse, Cissnei quickly pulls out her PHS and aims the camera at the two, starting to record a video. The camera on her phone is as powerful as ShinRa can make them, and maybe the people at HQ could make something of it – analyse the lip movements or something. If nothing else, it was proof of the Ultima's movements in Nibelheim, and the fact that he now appears to have an accomplice.

The two men move away from her, and after a moment of consideration, Cissnei follows them discreetly at a distance, from the outskirts into the woods. They don't walk far, only a little further and then she can see their goal. There is a motorcycle parked in the woods, a large Hardy-Daytona, and while the dark haired man scowls at it, the youth takes the box from his hands and attaches it to the back of the bike.

Then the Ultima mounts the behemoth of a motorcycle, and brings it to life with efficient movements – experienced movements, even though nothing in his files suggests that he's ever even came _close_ to a motorcycle before. That doesn't seem to register with the youth, though, who pats the back of the bike demandingly, and makes the dark haired man sit down behind him, gingerly touching the youth's waist.

Cissnei doesn't need expertise in lip reading to recognise the "Hold on," the Ultima says – and then they're moving and gone almost in an instant, the motorbike already tearing its way through the woods. Cissnei's phone, still filming, catches a glimpse of the rear of the bike, and with narrowed eyes she notes the lack of plates, wondering who the Ultima had stolen the bike from.

It doesn't matter, though.

With a scowl, she stops filming and brings up Tseng's number instead. "Sir, I have a confirmed sighting," she says as a way of hello. "And what’s more, the Ultima has an accomplice. I'm sending you the footage I filmed now."

 

* * *

 

 

Vincent watches uneasily while Cloud prepares the… equipment, which he will apparently need to manage through the night. "In the future, you eventually learned to hold back the beasts on your own, but it took you a couple of months," the blond says, while testing the leather belts he had bought from a gas station they had stopped by earlier that day. "Until then, the night time was always the hardest – because you can't sleep unless you're constricted."

Vincent shifts a bit. It is… a bit unnerving to be around the Ultima now. He's heard so many things about the future in the day they spent riding – most of which he isn't sure if he believes, but… the things the youth knows about _him_ surprise him. Most of those things he had never told anyone, not Lucrecia, not even Veld who had satisfied most of his… needs during their partnership.

Hojo hadn't been the one to put him into the coffin – and Cloud knows that. Knows that, knows the reason why Vincent crawled into that tight space and why he had stayed there. More than that, the youth knows things about him he himself _doesn't_ know. Like what had happened at the mansion, what Cloud had done to Vincent and why the blond hadn't hesitated at all before doing it. Like _this_.

The Ultima motions at him to get down on his knees – doesn't say it, thank Gaia, but the silent demand is clear enough. Vincent doesn't follow it at first, too uneasy, too suspicious – too nervous. He wants to. Just the sight of Cloud working with the belts had made him squirm on the inside – he already knows he's going to _like_ it, and it worries him more than just a little bit. It reminds him a bit of back when he had been much younger, thirteen or fourteen and had been just learning his own Assertion, and the Assertion of others.

That first time when an older, stronger boy – he can't even remember his name anymore – had pinned him down with hands rather than words, Vincent's reaction hadn't been to fight but to completely melt. It had terrified him then – and sometimes later on as well, even in his adulthood, even with Alphas he had known and trusted. Because there was always something there, something in the _Alphas_ , that worried him. Because most times they had been more uneasy than he had been. Looking at him uncertainly. Wrong.

The sight of Cloud, snapping one of those leather belts taunt between his hands, makes him uneasy in a different way, though. This is a bit more than Vincent has ever gotten with the… needs he has. That doesn't worry him – he _knows_ his own reaction to it, that will be fine. What he worries about is _Cloud_.

Cloud knows, sure. But can he _handle_ it? Or will he be like Veld who had always looked so uneasy, so tense, always did what he had to and then fled, leaving Vincent properly Asserted, but somehow unsatisfied. Or like Lucrecia, who had delighted in experimenting, even with something as obscure as _that_ , but… had never really been able to deliver? She had been uneasy too. Alpha personality, but without the strength – overwhelmed and anxious. Too gentle. Too quick to run away.

There is nothing of it in Cloud's eyes, though. He just lifts an eyebrow at Vincent's hesitations and motions at the ground again, calm, collected. _Prepared_. And maybe that should worry Vincent more because despite everything, despite having _lived_ with this all his adulthood, this is unsure ground to him. A variety of physical Assertions aside, no one's ever used… belts on him. Well, not since he had been too young to Assert and his father had resorted to one to beat the unruliness out of him, but that was a different thing, so very different.

"It's either this or I knock you out for the night. I am not leaving you unsupervised while I sleep," Cloud says finally.

"Yes. Yes of course," Vincent sighs and after a last moment of hesitation, he goes down to his knees.

"Hold out your hands," Cloud demands, and shivering a bit Vincent holds them out like asked. Without a word, the youth walks around him, pulling his hands behind his back – and then proceeds to tie his wrists together with easy, practiced motions, pulling the leather belt around his wrists tight enough for it to bite into his skin through the glove of his right hand.

While the gunman lets out a shuddering breath, twisting his hands just enough to feel how efficiently they're held – oh, Gaia, _he can't get free_ – Cloud reaches forward, tugging the high collar of his cape down, baring Vincent's throat. Then, with a simple, forceful snap, the Ultima wraps another belt around his neck.

Two easy motions, so quickly executed that it takes Vincent a moment to realise that yes, they happened, yes there is a _belt_ around his neck, and yes… oh yes, he likes it.

"I'm going to tie these together – and if you struggle, you will end up choking yourself," the youth murmurs almost directly into his ear while the gunman shifts on his knees, a bit on edge and elated. Cloud continues, "Then I'm going to tie your legs and that is how you will spend your night – and every night from here on until you can control your monsters. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Vincent whispers, closing his eyes and trembling as Cloud attaches the two belts, pulling the strap in between taunt. The old tension somewhere between his shoulder blades fades and he melts into it, letting his hands relax in their binding, letting his shoulders slump. It feels… indescribable.

This is it. This is what he's been looking for all his life. Veld hadn't been able to deliver, Lucrecia had tried and failed. And yet Cloud manages it without any effort. Why? Experience? Because he has done it before? What had it been like then, for the first person he had done this to? Whether it had been the Vincent Valentine of the future or someone else, someone had been the _first_. Had Cloud been so assertive then, so confident, so secure?

"I'll blindfold you later, once it's time to turn in," the blond adds, while pushing Vincent gently off of his knees, so that he can straighten the gunman's legs and then bind them. "You ought to be able to sleep then."

Vincent swallows, opening his eyes and watching the young man as he uses the belts to wrap his legs together, ankles and thighs tightly bound, knees left a little loose so that he can still bend them. The gunman stares at the belts for a while, feeling the ones around his wrists, around his throat, and then looks up at the man who had so bound him.

He isn't sure what he expects – that same anxiousness that he had seen in Veld and Lucrecia maybe. But Cloud isn't uneasy at all. He just looks determined to get the job done, and perfectly confident. Moving like he knows exactly what to do, how to do it, what Vincent needs. How much does the youth know, though? Does he know everything? That it had always felt more real to Vincent, more reassuring, to be held down physically – while verbal Assertion felt hollow and uncomfortable, and left him feeling almost nauseous?

 Does he know…

"Why?" he asks, more to himself than the youth who, with five belts, has effectively bound him immobile. Why does he like this? He's never been so _comfortable_ , so… secure. He should've been writhing in discomfort, trying to escape, hell, he should've been panicking, but all he wants to do is lay down and stay like this, never being able to move and so _relaxed_ because of it. He's almost swaying, as all the tension is leeched from his body, leaving him lax in the bondage.

"People are different, and you're a very _physical_ sort of person," the blond shrugs and looks him over, satisfied with a work well done. "Which is lucky for you, because this would be pretty damn horrible if you didn't like it," he adds, reaching forward and touching Vincent's face. "Comfy?"

"Very," Vincent admits with an embarrassed sigh and the blond smiles.

"I'll figure out better straps later, something you can remove yourself in case something happens," Cloud says, reaching forward and touching his cheek – and Vincent can't help but helplessly nuzzle his face against his palm. "It wouldn't do if we got ambushed and you were be unable to move like this."

"Mm," the gunman answers, giving in to the soothing feeling of being bound, being dominated. Gaia, but Cloud really knows how to do it just right. He's sinking into that place in his mind where he can cherish the feeling, but still think. He has felt it before and he has always loved it… but it has never been like this, this powerful.

"I've missed seeing you like this," the blond youth admits with a chuckle. "I never got to see this after you became an Alpha. Granted, you didn't need it anymore, but still…" With that said, he gently eases Vincent down to lie on his side on the bedroll, before moving back and leaving the gunman there. With a sigh, Vincent shifts a bit until his legs are folded and his shoulder is comfortable against the bedroll.

Taking a seat on the other bedroll, which lies in the shadow of the Hardy-Daytona, Cloud takes out his PHS. Around them, the plains are dark and quiet, with just a hint of the setting sun on the horizon while the stars are coming out above them. Utterly comfortable despite the openness of their position, Vincent watches the youth, listening to the sound of typing and the beeping of incoming messages. "What are you doing?" he asks idly, too comfortable to be more than vaguely curious.

"Perfecting my handiwork," Cloud says, smiling as he glances up. "Can't tell you what it is, in case someone captures you. Sorry."

"It's okay," Vincent answers with a hum, and closes his eyes while the typing and beeping continues. How long Cloud keeps at it, he isn't sure as he drifts in the pleasant daze of submission, but eventually the sound stops and as he opens his eyes again it's to see Cloud putting the phone away, and instead taking the box he had brought with them from ShinRa mansion.

Then some of the pleasant security of being bound fades as Vincent watches the younger man take out a syringe from the box, followed by a phial of green, glowing liquid. "What are you doing now?" he asks quietly, worriedly.

"Something very stupid, most likely," Cloud answers, and prepares the syringe with what looks like three millilitres of the glowing substance, easing the bubbles out with gentle tapping. Then, with Vincent's comfort fading a bit more with every motion, the youth shifts until he can shimmy his trousers down to his knees, before taking a deep breath and plunging the syringe needle into his topmost thigh muscle.

Vincent squirms helplessly at the sight of him bringing the plunger down and injecting the Mako into himself. "Oh… _Fuck_ ," Cloud gasps as he pulls the needle out, shuddering. The syringe falls as he bows over the leg he had just injected, his fingers clawing at the bedroll to keep from clawing at the leg. "Fucking hell, I've forgotten how much this _burns_."

Grimacing at the sight of him, Vincent writhes a bit and then gasps as the struggling tightens the belt around his throat. Bastard – Cloud had bound him early on purpose. "Why?" the gunman hisses, forcing himself to relax to keep from choking himself.

The blond lets out a strained chuckle, not looking up. "I might be the Ultima, but I've got an omega's body. Gotta change that," he says in a tense voice, his forehead resting almost on top of his shaking knees. He breathes through his open mouth for a moment before swallowing and forcing himself to relax. His knees are still trembling and Vincent can see how the muscle he had just injected throbs, before Cloud pulls his trousers up again, hiding it.

"They're going to send people after me. Especially later," the blond says, still sounding strained, his hands shaking slightly as he puts the phial and the syringe away. "I'm going to need my old physical strength back. Mako enhancement is the only way."

"And do you know enough of it to do it safely?" Vincent asks with a scowl.

"More than enough," Cloud says, closing the box with its damning contents hidden once more. "I'm not going to kill myself overdosing; you can relax," he promises, rubbing a hand along the abused leg. "I've learned my lessons about Mako long ago. Just a little bit every night, each time to a different muscle to keep them from being over-exerted; it will give me a head start."

Vincent hisses at that slightly, shaking his head as much as the belt will allow. "You're an idiot," he says.

"No doubt," the youth answers with a strained laugh, just staring at his legs for a moment. Then he looks up at him. "I really need this though. Hell, I'll need this just to control _you_."

The gunman says nothing, just stares at him for a long while, wondering if it had been the right thing to do, to put his life and safety into the young man's hands. Aside from the things Cloud has told him, most of which he doesn't believe, aside from what the young man knows about him… he knows very little about the blond. Just what he has said so far, what he has done – which, in truth, isn't much. But…

Closing his eyes, Vincent swallows, feeling the belt's edges dig into the skin of his throat, almost hurting. Now that the surprise and shock is fading, he'd going back down. And he loves that, loves it in a way he has never been able to love Assertion before, not really. But this… this is not what he had thought he'd have to see and endure, watching from the side lines as the man dominating him, Alpha or Ultima, whatever the hell Cloud wants to call himself, injected himself with the same poison that had ruined his life.

"I don't mind if you want to leave tomorrow," Cloud says without looking at him, still rubbing at his thigh. "It's your choice."

The gunman considers that, really considers it. If he left, though… how long would it take for his demons to break free? He's already too far from Nibelheim to get back into his coffin before they would. He _needs_ Cloud, needs his skilled domination to stay in control of himself. And despite everything, despite how insane most of it sounds, Cloud _knows_ things. About him, about Lucrecia, about Sephiroth.

"Tomorrow, you'll bind me afterwards," he says roughly, opening his eyes and meeting the youth's blue ones levelly – or as levelly as he can, from his awkward, wonderful position on the bedroll.

"Can't do that," the youth laughs softly. "Do you have any idea what your beasts would do? What they'd be doing now, if you weren't bound, with me being this weak? No. I'll tie you up before. I'll _always_ tie you up before. That's not something we can negotiate on."

Vincent grimaces but concedes the point – and damn, does it ever sting that Cloud knows more about his limitations than he does. "Damn it," he murmurs, giving up.

The blond chuckles again, shifting where he sits, cautiously getting to his feet. His steps are shaky and stumbling as he makes his way over, falling to his knees beside Vincent. "Eventually, you'll learn control and then I can trust you to see me weak," he says, while reaching for the elder man. "But I can't yet. I can't _die_ yet."

Vincent swallows and closes his eyes as the young man gently tugs his bandana down, to cover his eyes, to turn him blind to the world. "What does that make me?" the gunman asks, shifting so that he's lying half on his back, as much as he can with his hands tied behind his back, with the belt around his neck pulled almost so tight he can't breathe. "What am I to you?"

"You're my beta," Cloud answers gently, running his fingers over Vincent's chin. "I know you don't believe me yet, that you don't trust me. Give it some time, Vincent, and soon I'll be your Ultima."

"Mine?" Vincent whispers, frowning behind the blindfold, disbelieving but soft because the calm – the perfect, soothing tranquillity he only gets in perfect darkness – is falling over him now and his body is melting into it gladly, into the binds, into this young man's touches.

" _Yes_ ," Cloud says emphatically, his thumb brushing over the bound gunman's lips, touching his gasp before withdrawing. "Just give it time."


	5. Chapter 5

Tseng sighs to himself while waiting for his Alpha's meeting to end so that he can give Veld the weekly rundown of what they had found so far about the Ultima. It's not much, and nothing new has come up since Cissnei had caught the young man with his new red caped companion in Nibelheim – an incident which still confuses the department.

Why had he gone to Nibelheim at all? The Ultima hadn't gone to meet his mother, not even glanced towards the house of his childhood, hadn't stepped a foot into the village judging by what they had been able to verify. Why then would he go to Nibelheim at all? Did he have some sort of secret hideaway there – was that where the box the Ultima's companion had been carrying had come from? Except it did not fit their theories, not really, of the timeline of the Ultima's power – that the young man hadn't had it when he had left Nibelheim and had instead gained it somewhere along the way before coming to Midgar.

It was infuriating how few results all their investigations had gotten them. Reno had tracked almost all of the Ultima's movements after leaving Nibelheim and joining the SOLDIER cadet program in Midgar, with nothing to show for it. Cissnei had been scouring Nibelheim for days now, with similar results. And of course, despite the fact that the best of ShinRa's computer experts had been working nonstop at the three terminals they knew the Ultima had used… they still had absolutely no idea what the youth had been doing, what he had been after, _what he had taken_.

And now… there hadn't been a sighting in weeks. Lots of rumours, definitely. About a little blonde man with a black haired companion in RocketTown, breaking into a chemical storage. About someone like that being seen in CosmoCanyon by the ShinRa watchers who were in the area. About two people on a motorcycle, riding through Corel, being seen in Gongaga, on a variety of roads and at almost all gas stations in the west continent. Rumours, whispers, which got only worse the more they investigated and the more the stories about these two perpetrators that ShinRa was trying – and failing – to find spread.

The only confirmed sighting they have was the one Cissnei had had in Nibelheim and that was it. And what little had been gleaned from the video she had shot hadn't been much – they had been able to analyse some of the Ultima's lip movements, but not the red caped man's thanks to his high collar, and the only thing useful were the words "back one day," the Ultima had spoken, which they can only assume – hope, wish, _pray_ – to mean that the Ultima intends to return to Nibelheim one day.

The door is opened and Tseng glances up as a few high standing officials in the company make their way out, Reeve Tuesti at the head. They pass him by without a word and after a moment of waiting, Tseng takes the folder from beneath his arm and then walks to the door, knocking gently. "Sir?" he asks, hesitating only for a moment at the sight of his Alpha who is frowning at the papers scattered across his desk. "It is about time for your weekly briefing about the Ultima."

"Come in, Tseng," Veld says without looking up from his papers. "Anything new?"

"Only rumours, sir," Tseng says, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "The most interesting one is the break-in at one of ShinRa's warehouses in RocketTown, which houses some volatile chemicals – the break-in has been confirmed, though the security cameras were destroyed by the perpetrators. Rumour has someone fitting the Ultima's and his companion's descriptions in the area, so we are investigating it."

"Chemicals?" Veld asks, glancing up. "What sorts of chemicals were stored there? What was stolen?"

"The warehouse contains chemicals used in the robotics factory: adhesives, corrosives, cleaning chemicals… I have the full list here," Tseng says, opening the folder and handing it over. "What’s missing are two drums of liquid nitrogen and a drum of the fuel they're experimenting on in the town, intended to be used in the rocket."

Veld raises his eyebrows at that and then leans back. "If it's the Ultima and the red caped man, they couldn't have exactly run off with these on a motorcycle," he says.

"No, sir. There is also a reported theft of a truck in the area, which we believe was used by them," the beta says.

The elder man eyes the list for a moment, considering. "Anything else? Any luck in trying to recognise the other man yet?"

"No. The fact that his face was hidden by his hair and half of his face was covered by the collar makes facial recognition nearly impossible. So far we've managed to confirm that he has red eyes, however," Tseng says, taking out an enhanced photograph from the folder. "And thanks to some footage Cissnei has supplied us from the woods they were in, we've confirmed his height at over a hundred and eighty centimetres," he adds.

Veld pauses at that, his eyes flicking at the picture and then at Tseng. "Red eyes?" he asks slowly.

"Yes, sir," Tseng confirms. "Very vivid red."

Without a word, his Alpha lowers the picture and turns to his terminal and quickly begins typing. Tseng blinks but waits patiently, waiting for the man to do whatever he is on about, until Veld finishes and holds up the picture of the Ultima's companion again, looking like he's comparing it to something on the screen. "Tell me," he says then, turning the screen to face Tseng. "Do you see a likeness?"

On the screen, there is a picture of a man with short black hair and a pale, handsome face – and what looks to be vivid red eyes. Judging by the collar and the tie, he's wearing a suit much similar to that of the Turks and yes… Tseng sees the similarities. He had already privately remarked upon the red caped man's features – high cheek bones, smooth nose, the shape of his eyes, not very definite as far as facial recognition goes, but the marks of a quite handsome man.

And the short haired man on the screen has those exact cheekbones, the nose, the shape of his eyes, not to mention the colour. "Could be, sir," he says slowly, leaning forward a bit – and then he recognizes the man from long ago – from his research into his Alpha's past, something he had been forced to do by his pride and duty as a beta of such an institution as the Turks. The man on the screen is Veld's long deceased partner.

"His name was Vincent Valentine," Veld says. "And as far as I know, the Valentine family is the only one recorded to have an inclination towards natural red eyes."

Tseng hesitates. He hadn't studied Vincent Valentine that closely and hates himself for the lapse. "Is it a… large family?" he asks, swearing to do proper research the moment he had the time.

"He and his father were the last Valentines left, and both of them died decades ago," Veld answers with a frown, turning the screen to himself and comparing the pictures. "The likeness is striking though."

"His son, perhaps?" Tseng offers cautiously.

Veld scowls at that slightly as he leans back in his chair, looking at the picture of the Ultima's partner. "Vincent Valentine was… killed in action during a very obscure point in the company's history," he says slowly. "Quite a bit of scientific research was in progress then and quite a lot of it went missing. Scientific research and… scientists."

Tseng raises an eyebrow at that and then places the folder onto his Alpha's desk, clasping his hands behind his back instead. "Do you want me to look into it, sir?" he asks.

He knows what is in his Alpha's mind. They had already considered it after all, as the source of Ultima's power, as his origins.

Back when ShinRa hadn't yet known better, some of its more delicate projects hadn't been guarded as closely as they should've been – and scientists had gone rogue, after getting a taste of ethic free experimentation and deciding that they did not want others to enjoy the fruits of their labour. Most of those had been dealt with eventually, but not all – and even with those who had been caught there had been… incidents.

Incidents like finding missing people experimented on, transformed and morphed. The creation of a super human – a superior Alpha – had been in fashion back then, one might say, and after Hojo had decided that it wasn't worth it to create someone above the hierarchy but what he wanted was rather someone who could stand _on top of it,_ everyone had tried to beat him to it. There had been a lot of attempts, a lot of failures, before SOLDIER that been perfected as Hojo's great success.

But maybe someone else had kept on working. Someone who had eventually gotten a _better_ result. A result which somehow could turn a skinny fifteen year old boy into an Alpha who could make the greatest Alphas on the planet kneel. And maybe the road to that success had started long ago. Decades ago. When Hojo was still working at it and when one Vincent Valentine had been reported KIA.

Veld says nothing at first, just stares at the picture for a long while. "Yes," he says eventually. "Look into it. And get me another picture of Ultima's companion. I don't care how you do it, just do it."

"Sir?" Tseng asks, frowning.

His Alpha grimaces and lowers the picture. "I knew something was bothering me about that damn video. The red caped man stands like Vincent used to. Moves exactly like him," he mutters and shakes his head. "Was there anything else, Tseng?" he asks then, his eyes narrowed.

"One thing, sir," Tseng says, eyeing the folder. "Concerning the SOLDIER Alphas Sephiroth and Angeal, sir."

"Have they shown any unusual behaviour?" Veld asks, eyes narrowed.

"Not as such, sir," the beta admits slowly. Aside from the fact that both of the SOLDIER Firsts are increasingly frustrated by their restrictions and had taken to very nearly demolishing the training rooms on level fifty, they had been rather understanding of the whole thing. "However, it has been nearly a month now. They have gone through all the tests that we and the science department can think of and have yet to show any indication of being… _triggered_."

"The threat of them being triggered is still too high for us to release them from their house arrest," Veld says.

"Yes, sir, but… we're not going to learn anything new this way," Tseng says as reasonably as he can manage. "I understand that the risks are high and the damage they could do can't be considered. But as it is, we're wasting resources by keeping them limited to the floor. They are becoming increasingly agitated by their detention and… nothing new is likely to occur this way. We won't learn what triggers the Ultima might've instilled this way, and until we do…"

"So what are you suggesting?" the Alpha asks, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Cutting them loose and letting them do what they like?"

"Just the return of some… controlled liberties," Tseng says cautiously. "Not just to appease their sensibilities but also to test them. Security is a good thing, but information is better, sir, and if we learn what possible orders the Ultima has given them, then we might figure out a little more about his goals. Even if the angle of Vincent Valentine proves to be fruitful, there is no saying if it will supply us with any new information about the Ultima's motivations. Or what he might've done when he used the terminals."

Veld eyes him seriously for a moment before nodding. "I will consider making the suggestion to the President," he says. "But if it is passed, and we do this… test of controlled liberties, it will be your responsibility."

"Yes, sir," Tseng says, relaxing a bit.

"Now get to work," his Alpha then orders. "And get me more pictures of the Ultima's partner. Next time we have this talk, I want more results."

 

* * *

 

 

Peering out of the helicopter window, Zack tries to avoid looking at his two Alphas. It's been a difficult month for them all, but for him especially since he was Angeal's beta and thus a very close spectator to his Alpha's increasing frustration and irritation – though of course he can understand it fully: a month cooped up inside, no missions, no right to even leave the floor not to mention the building and on top of that, Lazard had taken both Angeal's and Sephiroth's Materia and would've taken their swords too if he could've asked without having to eat said swords…

This holiday would've been heaven sent, if only Angeal and Sephiroth could've seen it as such. But they don't – can't really, with a Turk – who is sitting across from Zack – a scientist – who sits beside him – and of course Zack himself all assigned to watch over them during the holiday. Watch them for any possible blow ups, flash backs, unusual behaviour, anything.

It's ShinRa's right and duty, of course, and Zack knows the Alphas he's avoiding looking at both know that. They're under suspicion and until the whole thing was cleared up there is no choice, they have to be watched closely. ShinRa could've refrained from attaching a scientist to their party though – even if it was just a lower level researcher and not one of the big ones, like Hojo or Hollander… It's still pretty widely known how little Sephiroth likes scientists and these days Zack knows Angeal isn't much fond of them either.

The silence is getting oppressing now, uncomfortable and tense. Even while keeping his eyes on the water below, Zack can tell how tense the poor scientist is. The Turk is a little better but not much – it's hard to relax near people like the SOLDIER Alphas, until you have a firmly established hierarchy with them. Angeal and Sephiroth themselves are silent and still and almost calm, but radiating just enough annoyance for it to feel rather hostile.

"So," the SOLDIER Second says uncomfortably, just to break the silence. "What's Banora like? I've never been to Mideel, so I figure it's probably hot."

"Very hot this time of the year. The town itself is small and quiet," Angeal says almost calmly – almost. "It's surrounded by apple orchards – we will have to land a good kilometre from the town itself, because there isn't any space near it, due to the orchards."

"They grow apples in Banora, huh?" Zack asks and manages to turn his eyes from the window to Angeal and Sephiroth. Both of whom are still in their accustomed clothing – just without their belts, shoulder guards, and usual SOLDIER gear. Their swords are there, on a rack just above their heads, but aside from that they're _out of uniform_.

Zack relaxes a little as he sees the way they're sitting. Angeal is more relaxed than he's seen him in weeks – still tense, still stiff, but that's the usual Angeal stiffness, him sitting straight backed and strong like an Alpha ought to. The look on his face isn't so grim though, the line of his lips no longer so severe and he has his arms comfortably folded, his legs in a casual sprawl. An easy posture, an expectant one.

Sephiroth is a bit harder to read, but in the previous weeks Zack's learned his body language, too. Sephiroth sits straight too, but with him it's less about Alpha posturing and more about his own, natural mannerism – even at his most furious and uncomfortable, the man has in him a natural sort of elegance that never leaves him. It's there now, in the way he sits, the way his legs are crossed, the way he holds his head, the way he has his hands neatly folded in his lap – elegant. It's also casual too, because his face is more relaxed than it has been in the last week and his shoulders aren't so forcibly straight as they were before.

"How long now?" Zack asks, relaxing further.

"Half an hour at most," Angeal answers and nods at the window. "That's the IneedPeninsula, so we can't be far."

Zack leans in to look and sees the peninsula just coming into view. Already from that distance he can see the forests that make the islands of Mideel famous, as well as the beaches. Wondering if there are any beaches near Banora, Zack watches how the land comes closer, starting to feel a bit better about this trip now.

They land some twenty five minutes later in a natural clearing next to what looks like endless arches of… trees. While Zack stretches and the scientist gathers his gear, Sephiroth and Angeal step out carrying their swords and attaching them to their backs. "Are those _trees_?" Zack asks, peering at the odd arches. "I've never seen trees like that, and Gongaga has some really funky stuff in it."

"Banora White – they always grow like that," Angeal says, and almost absently rests his hand on top of Zack's head, pushing down just enough that Zack has to relax his muscles and bow a bit. "We can walk underneath them – that there," the Alpha motions with his other hand. "That's the road from here to the town. We'll be passing the Rhapsodos house as we go, though."

"Rhapsodos?" Zack asks, trying not to squirm – Angeal hasn't dared to Assert verbally over _anyone_ for the past weeks, and he's almost used to the physical Assertions. Almost, but not quite – he prefers Angeal's voice; it's more… concrete, somehow, to be Asserted verbally.

"Yes. Genesis’ family lives there," Angeal agrees.

"Are you ready?" Sephiroth asks, the somewhat irritated order directed at the scientist who answers by hurrying with a variety of suitcases. "Let's go then."

The Turk lingers back to exchange a few words with the pilot and follows them like a shadow, but Zack's learned to ignore the Turks by now. The SOLDIER floors are full of them these days. Angeal and Sephiroth seem hyper aware of their watchers though, and when they encounter their first few small monsters, they deal with them rather quickly and mercilessly, leaving Zack standing on the side-lines, feeling awkward.

"Gaia, I hope there are a lot of monsters around here," he murmurs, shaking his head while Angeal stretches his arms, having only used his fists, and Sephiroth cleans his sword with a cloth.

"How so?" the scientist asks uneasily.

"They really need to let off some steam," Zack shrugs, and then follows the Alphas.

They pass by a rather impressive looking farm which apparently belongs to Genesis' parents – and though it's nothing compared to the buildings of Midgar, it's still rather awe inspiring to see the three story house and know that one family owns it, and lives in it. They don't stop by to say hello, though – apparently Genesis' parents didn't much care for Angeal for some reason – and instead move on to the town itself.

It is small. And quiet. There are few people walking about, some of them carrying baskets full of white-blue apples, but most do it in a comfortable, easy silence. The most noise Zack hears comes from a rather pretty young woman with long brown hair, who hums to herself while walking along, pushing in front of her a cart loaded with what looks like tree saplings.

"Zack," Angeal says to him, and Zack quickly snaps his eyes away from the girl. "Despite everything, _you_ are on a mission," the Alpha admonishes him.

"Sorry, Angeal," the beta says with an apologetic grin and hurries to his Alpha's side.

They first make their way to the local inn to check their reservations and take their things there. After that, Angeal wants to head out to meet his mother while Sephiroth wants to stay inside, which poses a bit of a difficulty for their watchers.

"I'll go with Angeal, you guys stay here; doubt his mother would approve you guys barging in on her anyway," Zack says to the silent Turk and the nervous scientist and then heads out without waiting for their regulation based arguments.

"I could have waited," Angeal says as they head out. "Sephiroth would have likely felt more sociable later."

"It's your _mom,_ man. You don't make moms wait," Zack grins. "Besides, it was a bit stupid to expect that you guys would want to stay together all the time. Isn't the point of a holiday to get away from work?"

"I suppose it is," Angeal murmurs with a smile and looks around the town square before heading forward, Zack close to his tail.

"Why did Sephiroth come anyway?" Zack asks as they make their way towards wherever they are going. "You know, aside from the companionship. He doesn't seem like the sort to go on a holiday. And he's not from here, is he?"

"No. Sephiroth was raised by ShinRa so he doesn't really have a home town," Angeal answers thoughtfully. "I think he came just because the chance presented itself – a chance to get away from ShinRa, from Midgar. Or maybe just to get out, in general – he doesn't like to be contained in one place."

"I guess no one would, after a month," Zack murmurs, glancing backwards toward the inn and shrugging his shoulders. Despite what he's learned about Sephiroth in the last few weeks, the guy is still pretty hard to read most of the time. "Well, I hope you guys have at least some fun. I know it's a bit of a bummer to have me and the others around but… I'll try not to get in your way."

Angeal snorts and ruffles his hair again in that half-physical-Assertion he does nowadays. "You, not get in my way? I'd like to see that."

"Hey, I can be inconspicuous if I try!"

"About as inconspicuous as a giant puppy in a glass factory."

They arrive at Angeal's childhood home not much after that, and it's a bit awesome to see Angeal actually bow his head a bit as he enters, to watch the normally so proud and secure Alpha lose some of his… Alphaness. Of course it tends to happen with most when they meet their mothers, but it's _Angeal_ so it's a bit hilarious.

"Angie, honey!" Gillian Hewley greets her son happily, throwing her arms around her much, much bigger son and only barely reaching. "I didn't think you'd arrive for another hour or so! Look at you! You look good, finally eating properly, are you? What is this, though?" she asks and Zack has to physically smother his snicker as the little lady grabs a hold of the bristles on Angeal's chin, tugging at them slightly. "You forgot how to shave?"

"Mom!" Angeal very nearly whines and Zack loses it.

"And who is this?" the woman asks, turning to the chortling Zack. "Hm. Spiky black hair, so and so high, and the manners of a clumsy puppy. You must be Zack," she says, smiling. "Angeal has told me so much about you in his letters. It's very nice to meet you."

"You too, ma'am," Zack grins and shakes her hand gently.

Gillian turns out to be a pretty awesome woman – she has coffee and tea and cookies of half a dozen varieties ready for them, and all sorts of town gossip to drown them in. Zack really has to marvel at her, and wonder if she knows just how much good she is doing with her chatter, and by _not_ asking why Angeal is on his so called holiday. Does she know about what happened, what the Ultima did – that Angeal's been under suspicion ever since?

Who knows. But the more she goes on, talking about things that don't matter to anyone but some little people of the town, the more Angeal relaxes, further and further until he's almost back to himself, except _more_ because here he isn't the second Alpha of SOLDIER, but just Angeal Hewley, the son of Gillian Hewley who had come back after a long time away. And that's… pretty awesome.

After a while, Zack sneaks his way out of the house, figuring he can watch Angeal just as well from outside the door while giving them some time to talk in private – he rather doubts the Ultima would've given Angeal any orders concerning his _mother_ after all.

That damn Ultima, and his damn Assertions. A month later and it's _still_ shaking the foundations of SOLDIER hierarchy. Angeal and Sephiroth are still the strongest and probably would always be, but… the lack of trust ShinRa has in them is starting to get transmitted to the SOLDIERs as well and the newest SOLDIERs, those made after the Ultima's attack, all take it for granted that two of the three SOLDIER Alphas can't be trusted. And the older ones are losing their faith too.

No, he is not thinking about it. He had thought about it all too much lately, especially since Lazard had started mentioning his future promotion more and more while handing out Zack's assignments. He is not thinking about it here too – he's here just to watch over Angeal and Sephiroth and that, damn it, is all.

To clear his head he starts taking a few steps back and forward which eventually turns into walking in a circle. While walking he considers all the things one can do in a little town like Banora. He'd have to find out if there is a beach nearby – he's missed swimming like nobody's business since leaving Gongaga. Then there'd be hiking too, and Angeal would probably like the chance to poke around all the local flora, the dendrophile that he was. What does Sephiroth like to do, though, aside from fighting? Does the guy have any hobbies whatsoever?

He's so deep in thought that he doesn't see the collision coming until he's already crashed into the cart, sending himself flat on his face and the cart falling to its side. "Oh, no!" a feminine voice gasps and as Zack tries to come up with a non-embarrassing way to get up, he feels hands on his shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry about that, I wasn't looking where I was going –" Zack starts to apologise while embarrassedly getting up to his knees, and then stops at the sight of the young woman at his side. It's the same humming girl he had seen earlier, the one with the long brown hair and the saplings.

"Hello?" she asks, waving a hand over his face. "Hel-loo?"

"Oh, sorry. Hi?" Zack says, flushing, and quickly stands up. "Oh, damn it," he then says at the sight of the mess he had made of her cart – the saplings are gone, and instead there are flowers on the cart, some apples, and a few sacks of what looks like dirt, one of which had split open and spread all over the ground. "Sorry, sorry," he says, wincing – so not cool – and quickly begins to gather the things.

"No, no, not like that – you'll crush the flowers!" she says, pushing at his shoulder. "Just lift the cart up, will you? Geez. Normally people are more careful with flowers, you know."

"Sorry. I guess I'm not used to them – not many flowers in Midgar," Zack says, wincing again while righting the cart– so, so not cool.

"You're from Midgar?" the girl asks, while carefully gathering the flowers into the cart again.

"Yeah," he grins and then hefts the soil sacks back into the cart as well. "I'm just on a holiday here with my – with some friends," he adds, and then motions at himself. "I'm Zack."

"My name is Aerith," she says and smiles while gathering up the spilled apples and lifting them into the cart. "What a coincidence. I used to live in Midgar until a little while ago."

"Really?" Zack asks and grins. She had seemed too cool for a country bumpkin. Probably an Alpha personality to boot – but it is _so very not_ cool to try and check something like that, so that's left to be seen. The fact that she is talking to him so easily though is telling. "Where in Midgar? Let me guess… sector six?"

"Sector five _slums_ ," Aerith says and grins as he winces again, standing up and brushing the hem of her flower dress clean with a few pats. "I should get back to work," she says then, motioning at the cart. "I need to take these to the nursery."

"Wait. I should pay you back somehow, for tipping over your cart and causing all this trouble," the SOLDIER Second says thoughtfully, considering her. She is _so_ pretty, there's no way he can let this go just like that. "I'm going to be here for a week or so, so-o… how about I take you on a date, somewhere?" he asks, and then seriously hopes that there are some restaurants or something in Banora. Well, if there aren't, then he can take her on a picnic, yeah, that would work.

She chuckles at him. "You are so silly," she says, reaching to pat his cheek almost consolingly. "I'll see you around, Zack. Now I really need to get going."

"Aww," he bemoans, giving her a pout, even while dancing a jig on the inside. She had rejected him, and _so easily_ too! Definitely an Alpha personality and most _definitely_ very _very_ cool. "Not even half a date? A quarter of a date? We could randomly bump into each other and have a chat? Anything?"

"I'll think about it," Aerith promises with a smile, takes the handles of the cart and continues on her way. "So long as you don't run me over again," she adds, laughing.

"Cross my heart," he swears and watches her go with a delighted grin.

Maybe this holiday wouldn't be so bad after all.

 

* * *

 

 

"I think it's about time we head to Nibelheim," Cloud muses, making Vincent look up from the gun he had been cleaning. They're in one of their many hideaways, in a cave big enough to hide all the things they had… accumulated over the last weeks. There is a fire going not far from Vincent, and the young Ultima is standing on the other side of it, leaning against the Hardy-Daytona, looking at his phone – a common sight – and typing something in with one hand while holding a sandwich in the other.

"Your handiwork?" the gunman asks, turning back to the slide he had been oiling.

"Almost done. Needs a couple more days maybe and then everything will be ready," Cloud agrees. "So this is a good time to take care of Jenova."

"Hm," the gunman answers, examining the slide before setting it down. Unable to help himself, he throws a glance at the truck Cloud had, with a few spoken words and orders, stolen from RocketTown – it and its contents. Considering the size of the truck and the roads of Nibelheim… "There is no way we can drive that up to the reactor. And no way can we get Jenova out on foot or with the bike."

"No, there isn't. Which is why we're going to have to… get something first," Cloud agrees, typing a bit more. "It shouldn't be too difficult, though, considering the resources the Turks are spending on trying to find me," he adds, smiling faintly and then putting the phone away. "I think the mines of North Corel will do the trick nicely."

"If you say so," Vincent answers, and relaxes a bit as Cloud walks over to him, kneeling on the ground just behind him, pressed against his back. While the younger man's hands trail over his shoulders and then to his throat, fingers wrapping almost casually around it, the gunman leans his head back, closing his eyes and wondering. He's gotten used to it now, to experiencing Cloud's near constant physical domination. Cloud seems at ease with it too, but…

"You're almost there, you know. You're learning faster this time around," Cloud murmurs into his ear, one hand sliding down while the other stays around Vincent's throat, each finger strategically placed so that at any moment he can stop Vincent's breathing. "Might have something to do with the fact that I know what I'm doing this time."

Vincent hums, sighing as he feels Cloud opening the binders of his cape collar and how the younger man then attacks the belts and buttons of his jacket, opening it just enough for his hand to slide inside, along the scars, to his vulnerable stomach where the fingers turn into claws, raking Cloud's nails across the tender skin. Even now, so used to the easy motion, Vincent can't help the gasp.

And inside him there is perfect, almost eerie silence. In the weeks that had passed, his beasts had learned their lessons, by belts, by chains, and a few times by knives that Cloud had wielded against them. He doesn't really need the extra help of tools anymore though. Not now, that the Mako injections are having their desired effect – which, Vincent has to admit, is both gratifying and a bit saddening.

"And how shall I bind you tonight?" Cloud murmurs, following the lines of Vincent's stomach muscles with his blunt nails, as if contemplating where to make the cut. "A chain around your neck, maybe? A wire? Or just a belt. Maybe I'll tie your wrists to your ankles again – you _liked_ that."

"Didn't," Vincent murmurs – but he had. It had been embarrassing, almost humiliating, but yes. He had liked it. Gaia, he liked everything Cloud did to him. Swallowing, the gunman opens his eyes and turns his head a bit, so that he can see the Ultima's face. Cloud is smiling – he always is, when they do this. It even reaches his eyes.

He's been wanting to ask for so long, for days, for weeks. Now, though, now they're on the brink of Cloud's final act and soon there will be no more time to hesitate. "Why?" he asks, shifting as Cloud's fingers dig into the skin of his stomach, hard enough to leave marks.

"Why what?" the blond asks.

Vincent isn't entirely sure. Why does Cloud do this to him, when he doesn't really have to – Cloud doesn't _need_ him in the slightest, he has all the power in the world in his voice and soon would have it in his body as well, he's almost there even now. Why does he bother? Why can he, why is he so good at it? And why hadn't Veld, why hadn't Lucrecia – why hadn't _anyone_ – managed anything even near this? Why was Cloud so perfect when everyone else had been such… disappointments?

"I've had… I've known a few Alphas who Asserted over me physically when I asked for it," Vincent admits. "But none of them… they were always so uneasy with it. Why aren't you?"

Cloud doesn't say anything for a moment. Instead he shifts and suddenly Vincent is on his back on the cave floor and Cloud is moving over him, opening his jacket the rest of the way and pushing it out of the way. While the gunman squirms, now a bit uneasy – his torso is so scarred, so hideous, and he doesn't really like the way Cloud looks when he sees the scars, doesn't like the way he traces them. It's the only time Cloud looks at him with anything but calm, accepting affection.

But then it's hard to look at autopsy scars without feeling anything but disgust. It's not even a scar really – it's a wound that would never heal, which would always be inflamed, red, puckered and revolting.

When Vincent moves to close the jacket again, Cloud takes his wrists and pins them at each side of his head, simple but forceful. "It's because you're too strong," the blond says, looking up from the scars at last and smiling. "You're a beta, Vincent – a very powerful beta at that. But you have these needs, and for most people it seems like an aberration for someone as powerful as you to have needs like those of a very low level omega."

Vincent swallows, looking at him. Cloud's eyes are glowing now, very faintly but they are. Weeks of daily injections having their toll, at last. "So I'm a freak of nature and people feel it."

"No, not really. Nothing's so black and white," the blond says, lifting Vincent's hands higher up, onto the ground above Vincent's head where he crosses the wrists so that he can hold them with one hand. "There is a bit of omega in everyone. And a bit of Alpha. Even if they've never been either, the potential is always there. I should know," he murmurs, chuckling. "You are a beta, you read as a beta, and people naturally expect certain things from a beta. Strength, confidence, self-reliance. Power. You have those, you exhibit those most of the time. But at the same time you have this," he motions down at Vincent's body, held imprisoned and bared below him.

The gunman squirms helplessly, as Cloud’s hand touches his chest, runs it down along his body, to his stomach, to his waist where the blond pulls a bit, urging him to arch up. It's all Vincent can do not to throw his head back and groan as Cloud positions him _just_ so, forcing him to bare his vulnerable stomach even more. Animal instincts, Cloud had said, and by Gaia he has them too.

"You terrify most Alphas. You're just too much for them to handle," Cloud murmurs, watching him with low lidded eyes. "You used to unnerve me too, back in the future, when we first met. But I'm not an Alpha anymore," he adds, low, and leans down.

Vincent can't help the cry that escapes his lips when Cloud bites his neck, just on top of the jugular, just hard enough to hurt but gentle enough not to damage. His breathing, already heavy, goes completely chaotic as the younger man presses down, scraping his skin with his teeth, marking each vulnerable spot as if for a later revisit. It's almost sexual, but not quite – too precise, too skilled, too determined – and though Vincent can't help the physical reaction to it, he knows Cloud won't answer in kind. Vincent might be a slave to his instincts, but Cloud isn't.

"Tomorrow we will start. We will get Jenova and destroy her bit by bit," Cloud breathes against his skin. "You're going to like it, I think. She did destroy Lucrecia, after all."

"I don't really care about Lucrecia right now," Vincent gasps, unable to help himself.

Cloud chuckles, and kisses the skin he had been abusing with his teeth, running his lips over Vincent's collarbone almost gently. "Of course you don't," he murmurs and lifts his head, an unreadable look on his face. "Everything will be over not much after that, though," he murmurs. "Once my handiwork is finished, I'll have done what I came here to do."

Vincent swallows, trying to stop panting, stop writhing against the Ultima. "Yeah," he says, sighing as Cloud's hand forces him down, his spine against the rough ground. "So you've been telling me," he adds, shivering.

"What will happen then?" Cloud asks, and the gunman blinks in surprise.

"You don't know?" Vincent asks, frowning.

"I don't," Cloud admits, shifting so that he's straddling the gunman a bit more comfortably, leaning forward to take his wrists in each hand. "I only came here to do two things. When those things are done… I have no idea what will follow."

Vincent frowns a bit, trying to relax – he wants to push against Cloud, just to get some _friction_ , but… this isn't the time, and that isn't what his Ultima wants from him. "Will something happen to you?" he asks. "This isn't your time. Once you've changed history, will… will you still remain, as you are now?"

"Nothing will happen to me. The future I'm from was destroyed the moment I came back – there isn't anywhere for me to go to," Cloud shrugs, easing Vincent's hands down so that they're level with his shoulders.

"Then you will live," the gunman says. "You will live here, somewhere, as part of this world, this time."

Cloud sighs, closing his faintly glowing eyes for a moment. "Doing what?" he asks, and Vincent has to take a breath at the sight of him, almost with his head bowed, the mannerisms of an Alpha bleeding from him like make up being washed away. He's still ever the Ultima – that never leaves Cloud no matter what he does, how he acts – but he seems… different for a moment. Vulnerable, maybe.

Defenceless in a way Cloud hasn't allowed him to see him before.

The gunman swallows and then lifts his head as much as he can, his shoulders almost off the ground. Cloud opens his eyes sharply and stares at him as Vincent speaks directly against his lips. "If nothing else, you'll be my Ultima," the gunman says, hoping, praying, please, _please_ …

For a long moment Cloud says nothing, just looks at him with an unreadable expression – almost surprised, but nothing like it. Vincent's shoulders begin to hurt, reaching forward as he is, while his hands are pinned down, but he won't let himself fall, not before Cloud does _something_. Accepts or… or rejects him.

Finally the blond sighs, his breath warm against Vincent's skin. "I will, won't I?" he murmurs, sounding almost surprised, almost _shy_. Vincent draws a breath and nearly lets himself relax back onto the ground – except Cloud won't let him. The blond releases his wrists and then cradles Vincent's head in his hands, keeping him in place, not letting him back away.

It doesn't take hands around his throat to stop Vincent's breath that time, as Cloud takes his mouth and _claims_ it.

 

* * *

 

 

Everything happens so fast, leaving Genesis, most of the Turks and pretty much everyone at ShinRa who knows about the tight surveillance net that they are trying to close around the Ultima baffled.

Genesis hears of the first part of the two acts the Ultima performs that day early in the morning. The Ultima and his red caped companion are sighted in North Corel, and an informant calls the closest Turk station almost immediately. A helicopter carrying four Turks and three SOLDIERs is dispatched instantly, though not with much hope of catching the Ultima. What they aim for is damage control and instant investigation, in hopes of, if not preventing whatever the Ultima is doing, then at least figuring out the goal of it as soon as possible.

It doesn't turn out that way. The Ultima isn't gone by the time the helicopter lands – he is waiting, and judging by what the reports later say, the crew sent to deal with the aftermath of the possible attack are subdued instantly – and then left behind, all but the pilot. By the time word of the hijack reaches Midgar, the helicopter is already gone, carrying in it the Ultima, his companion and a much higher level of threat than before.

Immediately, all attention is turned to the West Continent, and to all possible key locations that the Ultima might be aiming for. The Corel Reactor security is tripled in an instant; all secret bases are locked up and covered with as many guns as possible, and whatever surveillance they can muster over the continent is doubled. The Ultima with his stolen helicopter is good and gone, however – each mechanism used for tracking in the helicopter is disabled or destroyed, each trace covered.

"Well, that was a lovely waste of resources," Genesis murmurs, going over the report of the hijacking over and over again. It was such a stupid mistake, what they had done. Ultima could subdue and command everyone, and they had known that and yet they had played into his hand? Why? Because they had simply not expected it to be a trap. Why not?

Why not indeed. They should've – the Ultima was rumoured to be the one behind a lot of thieveries across the west continent, mostly in RocketTown where a truck and containers full of some potentially very dangerous chemicals had vanished. He had also a history of using _people_ – Angeal namely – to his own ends. So why not a helicopter and its pilot.

But then, the Turks had taken perhaps the most safety precautions they could've. They had landed far away, not in North Corel itself. They’d had a sniper with them, and every intention of placing that sniper in a spot where he might have a chance at taking the Ultima out. They had simply not expected the Ultima to be there, on their somewhat unpredictable landing spot.

Except it _was_ predictable, if only you granted your enemy some level of intelligence. The Ultima must've expected them to avoid close contact, knowing that they'd be wary of his power. But even despite that they had to land somewhere relatively near, or it would take them far too long to get to the village itself. The Ultima must also know the terrain very well, to be able to deduce the most likely landing spot. The Ultima had had luck with him, too, but Genesis can't believe that’s all.

The Ultima is intelligent – and his plans, even if they unravel near the end as they did in Midgar, are well made. Despite how the SOLDIERs spit and snarl about the Ultima getting into ShinRa HQ by pretending to be a cadet, it had all been very neatly done – and the Ultima must've known that the guise would never hold water for long. But it had held long enough for him to do most of what he had wanted, and the rest he had done when he had been discovered. He probably wasn't expecting it, at the time, but he wasn't worrying about it either. And why would he, when he had Assertive power higher than Sephiroth that worked beyond the natural limitations of Assertion?

But what is the Ultima about to do with a helicopter? What did the helicopter give? Speed and access. So he is going somewhere that is difficult to access by other vehicles, which requires an aerial approach. Either that, or what he needs is a quick way to get in somewhere and a quick way to get out – a helicopter on the rooftop is much easier to go with than a motorcycle at the front door. But where? What can a villain, whose only known and confirmed goal is _data_ , be after this time?

Something of ShinRa's – it has to be. What else is there of value in the West Continent? The helicopter only has so much range anyway – it was nearly fully fuelled, but that wouldn't be enough to make it leave the continent or actually go that far at all. All that there is within reach is… Corel, Costa del Sol if only just barely, and Nibelheim. Costa del Sol has no ShinRa facilities and the Nibelheim reactor is ancient and barely functional, there would be nothing there. So, like the Turk Director had assumed when he had assigned tripled security, it is most likely the Corel reactor the Ultima is after…

Well. There are a lot of secret projects going on in the Corel reactor. Which one of them, though? The Huge Materia project? Some of the Weapons Department’s projects? Does the place have any secret data there…? Frowning, Genesis considers the layout of the land around the reactor, and the design of the reactor itself. A helicopter _can_ land on top, possibly…

He is still thinking about it, when the call comes – and with it the information of where the Ultima had gone after and what he had successfully procured.

"From _Nibelheim_?" Genesis asks with disbelief, as he sits down across from the Director of the Turks, with Lazard at his other side.

"Yes. The Nibelheim reactor is difficult to access due to it having been built on a mountain, with no proper roads leading up to it – it was originally build by using aerial transport for the material and personnel," Veld confirms, typing away at his computer and then turning to the large monitor that had been brought into the office, probably just for this. "And it seems that the records of the Nibelheim reactor aren't fully… comprehensive," he adds, and the screen flashes and a security feed begins to play. "It started at twenty hundred, local time."

The first image is of what looks like the front of the facility – a rocky, unpleasant sort of place, with sharp, jagged rocks everywhere. The video is silent as the helicopter lands, and remains silent as the Ultima jumps out of it, with the red caped man close behind him. As they approach the camera – the reactor – the helicopter stays where it is, engines still running, blades spinning and kicking up dust.

Then the image changes and they see what appears to be the front hall of the reactor. There are guards and what look like scientists, who try to stop the approach of the two intruders. Genesis's hand twitches on the armrests of his chair as he watches them go down at the Ultima's command, and how the Ultima just leaves them there on the floor, walking past them without care.

Another feed, of a corridor, where the same pattern repeats. Then another – the Ultima takes a turn, then another and the camera angles change as he goes, until finally he reaches the core of the reactor. It's not quite what Genesis had been expecting – nothing like the reactor cores in Midgar. There is what at first looks like a wall of… pods of some sort, but then he realises that it's more like an amphitheatre of them – with stairs leading up in the middle of it.

"What are those?" Lazard asks with a frown.

"Long term projects of the Science Department, mostly concerning the long term effects of high level Mako exposure and such," Veld says. In the image, the Ultima is half way up the steps when the room is filled with security personnel, all with rifles and hand guns aimed at the two intruders. They all go down just as everyone else has so far in the security feeds.

Something is a bit different this time, though. As the Ultima turns to continue his way up, his red caped companion stays behind – and says something, judging by the Ultima's reaction. Genesis narrows his eyes and leans forward, as the red caped man takes what seems to be a hesitating step downwards, towards the downed guards, making the Ultima turn to look at him.

"Disorder in the ranks of our enemies, hm?" he ponders out loud, and then almost leaps back as the Ultima moves – too fast for the camera to keep up. One moment he is half way up the stairs, and then suddenly he and his companion are both on the floor, the Ultima on top with his hands around the black haired man's neck. "Whoa," Genesis murmurs, leaning back in his chair to appreciate the view fully. While the security guards watch from where they're kneeling, not that far from the intruders, the Ultima _strangles_ his companion.

"Hm. Not as kind to his allies as he is to his enemies, then," Lazard murmurs darkly.

"There is more," Veld says, freezing the image and then zooming in – not to the Ultima, who has his head bowed and thus his face hidden by his spiky hair – but to the red caped man. The image is blurry for a moment, before clearing a bit and they can see the black haired man's face. "That," Veld says, as the image is flipped around so that the man's face is right way up, "Is Vincent Valentine. He was a Turk many years ago."

"Was?" Lazard asks.

"He was reported KIA," Veld says darkly. "It happened twenty five years ago."

"That makes him, what, forty, fifty years old?" Genesis asks, leaning in to look at the image more closely. "He doesn't look a day older than twenty."

"No, he doesn't," Veld agrees with a frown. "I have compiled a report concerning the theories the Turks have about it, and how it might relate to the Ultima's origins. Those years were, after all, the years of rogue science." With that said, he unfreezes the video, and it returns to its original distance and alignment.

The Ultima doesn't choke Valentine to death, releasing him after a while. If the Ultima says something, it doesn't show in the video, but he gets up and pulls Valentine to his feet as well, and they continue up the stairs almost like nothing had happened – almost. Valentine straightens his collar with visibly shaking hands as they go, rubbing at his throat as they leave the frame.

And the image changes again, to a more recognizable reactor core. The agedness of the technology is obvious, though, and the core is something of a mess. The Ultima walks across _pipes_ to get to the core itself, towards what… looks like some sort of statue, or idol, except made from gleaming metal. The word JENOVA has been written on top of it, so… it is a Jenova statue?

Before Genesis can figure out why there is an _idol_ in a Mako Reactor, the Ultima is already ripping it from its place, tearing it off the floor with his bare hands and then throwing it aside.

"That," Veld says, grimacing. "Weighs close to a hundred and fifty kilos, according to the reports."

"So that confirms that he's been enhanced," Lazard murmurs.

"Not just that, he has also been training," Genesis adds, nodding at the picture. "Look at his arms," he orders. Thanks to the fact that the Ultima seems to prefer sweater vests, his arms are completely bare – and their musculature is obvious. "Quite the change from what he looked like in his _cadet days_ , wouldn't you say?" he murmurs, narrowing his eyes. The Ultima had been preparing for something. This very raid, perhaps? Expecting more security. Why?

Then his eyes are drawn to the… thing that had been behind the idol. A large glass tube, inside of which there is a… "What is that? Some sort of failed experiment?" Genesis asks, frowning. It looks like the body of a… woman, maybe? With an odd sort of helmet on her head and tubes of varying sizes going into her stomach. Except she has wing stumps on her back and her skin is blue, and her hair is silver. And there is an _eyeball_ in her _breast._

"It is some sort of research material that the Science Department has been using, on and off, for the past thirty years or so," Veld says with a frown, while on the screen the Ultima fiddles with the control console, and the liquid is drained from the tube, making the body inside float down. While the Ultima has the mechanisms draw the glass back, he motions Valentine to do something and in answer, the red caped man gets what looks like a metal coffin from somewhere on the left, taking it from a storage unit in the wall. Judging by the looks of it, it's designed to be used as transportation for the so called research material.

The Ultima tears the tubes from the body, and then lifts the gleaming and no doubt rather slimy body into the casket, closing it with the clamps situated along the seams. After that it seems like his objective has been met, because he stands up then, lifting the casket to his shoulder with all apparent ease, before turning to walk away, Valentine following closely after him.

"After that the two of them left the reactor, returned to the helicopter and it flew off," Veld says, freezing the image to the point where the Ultima and Valentine are just crossing over the reactor core.

"So he was just after that corpse," Genesis says, frowning. "What is it? Why was he after it?" he asks, turning to the Turk Alpha.

Veld holds his gaze for as long as he can before bowing his head slightly and turning to his monitor. "It has been filed as classified – only the head of the Science Department has full access to the documents concerning the research subject _Jenova_. However," Veld adds, with a wry smile. "I understand that the department head, Professor Hojo, is quite furious, and is demanding the immediate return of Jenova – and the immediate death of the Ultima and his companion."

"Really?" Genesis asks, with eyebrow raised. Hojo had been wanting to examine the Ultima, to cut him apart and put every piece of him under a microscope ever since the fake-cadet had walked out of ShinRa with the strongest SOLDIER Alphas bowing down for him. Not anymore, hm? Very telling. "Jenova must be something _very_ important then," he muses, turning to the large monitor, which still shows the Ultima and Valentine. "So. We didn't catch him this time, but we learned more about his companion and his goals. Any idea where the helicopter was headed?"

"None, but it can't have much fuel left," Veld says. "At most it can fly another fifty kilometres and then it will run out. I have already arranged a search in the area, though due to available resources in the West we can only have so many helicopters searching. They are all under strict orders not to land, to avoid a recurrence of this… incident."

"Concerning Vincent Valentine and the Ultima's origins…" Lazard says, looking at the screen thoughtfully. "You said something about rogue science and I think I might have an idea what your theories might be. Might I see the report?"

"Of course," Veld says, taking out a folder and handing it over. "They are only theories, but they are theories the theft of this research material supports, to some extent."

Lazard nods and begins to leaf through the report while Genesis considers the screen.

Jenova. Hasn't he heard that somewhere before?

 

* * *

 

 

Running his hand through Vincent's hair, Cloud stares at the fire, not entirely sure what he is feeling. Jenova is now gone – and Gaia, had it ever been satisfying to destroy her. He might've gone a bit overboard with it – there were easier ways to destroy organic matter than freezing with ice spells, dipping in liquid nitrogen, and shattering and burning the pieces in rocket fuel, but… it had been Jenova and, yes, it had been _extremely_ gratifying to be thorough. Not that fighting her hadn't been satisfying in its own right, in the future, but to destroy her bit by bit…

But that's one out of two, and any moment now the second would be finished as well. And then… what?

Frowning, he turns his eyes to Vincent, who is lying on the bedroll with his head resting on Cloud's thigh. The gunman is sleeping, exhausted and blissful in his blindfold and bondage, his arms bound from wrists to elbows in front of him, attached to the collar wrapped around his neck, his legs held immobile with a bar between his knees, holding them spread. Perhaps that is a bit more thorough that it needs to be – nowadays, Vincent only needs to be blindfolded and he goes out like a light and handcuffing his wrists behind his back would've been more than enough, but…

Well, destruction wasn't all Cloud likes to be thorough with. And with the way Vincent reacts to it…

Of course, it also helps Vincent learn control, to change methods – to not let him get too adjusted to one set of bindings. "Almost there, but not quite," Cloud murmurs, smiling as his fingers encounter a tangle and then gently starting to ease it open. He probably should've expected Vincent to lose control at the sight of the downed people in the reactor – it had been just too much submission, too much human vulnerability for his monsters to handle, simply enough. Well, nothing had been lost, and he had been able to bring Vincent back to control before he had actually changed shape or done something… irreversible.

Which means that even after everything is over, he still has a… duty, in Vincent, in bringing the gunman down a bit further, to that place where he finally figures out how to control his beasts himself. So there is one thing he can do, after everything is over. One thing he _has to do_.

And yet, it is something that will eventually be solved, and then what? Then what?

Once his job in the past is done, what would be his purpose? Or would he drift in the _lack_ of it, the way he had in the future? Gaia, but he doesn't want that, can't stand the idea. When Reeve had come up with his plan to save the future by changing the past, Cloud had reached for it with both hands. Just to have a _purpose_. Of course, it probably hadn't seemed like that to most people, but… yes, he had welcomed it. He had been thrilled about it, thrived in it.

He hadn't expected it to be over so soon.

Closing his eyes, Cloud leans his head back a bit and then stares up at the cave ceiling, where some bats stare back down at him. Maybe he will drift. It will be harder in this time – so many people after him, the entire ShinRa Company. So he can't go freely, safely, from town to town as he chooses. Will he have to hide, somewhere? Or keep moving? That doesn't sound too bad, to spend the rest of his life travelling, but…

"Maybe I'll let you decide," he murmurs and opens his eyes, looking down at Vincent who rests easy and lax against him, utterly comfortable with his arms and legs bound, his eyes covered. Gaia, but the man looks so comfortable. "You still hold onto yourself," Cloud murmurs, stroking his fingers through the black hair. "Not quite like me."

He is still flickering somewhere between ranks. Ultima, omega, Alpha and back again – and the Ultima is the hardest to be because there is nothing he can't do and… nothing he _has_ to do. The Ultima has no instincts, no drives, and no needs. It is _nothing_ while being _everything_. Very hard to be. He would've almost preferred being an Alpha again, even if it had never come naturally for him. Or just an omega, just so he'd know what he is.

But if time travel wasn't going to take the Ultima from him, then nothing would. Nothing, but his death.

Sighing, Cloud bows his head, resting his forehead against Vincent's bandana. "Maybe when this is over, I'll ask you what you want to do, and then we'll do that. Would you like that, though? Or would it just annoy you?" Vincent likes having a strong Alpha – or an Ultima, in this case. Likes being under the control of others. So giving him the choice _might_ annoy him. Or it might be flattering for him – he had stood up to Lucrecia and Hojo before his… change, after all.

It's funny how Vincent thinks there is nothing Cloud doesn't know about him, when in truth he knows very little. He hadn't known that Vincent didn't only prefer women, for one. Or that he might've ever preferred _him_. Had the future Vincent? Had he thought of it? They had been so busy when they had been running after Sephiroth, and then Vincent had gotten Chaos and things had changed… They had become incompatible, because as an Alpha Vincent had been very different than he had been as a beta. Had the potential been there, though? Cloud doesn't know – he had never seen it.

No use regretting it now. That Vincent is gone and will never return. And this Vincent is… well, there is no comparing them. No comparing anyone, really – especially not for the Ultima. They all, from omegas to Alphas, look and feel pretty much the same to him. Like _nothing_.

Gaia but Cloud is tired of it.

He's contemplating going to sleep, when his phone beeps with an incoming message. Sighing, Cloud takes it out and flips it open, looking at the screen.

Coming from a scrambled number, the message only reads _"100%"_ and nothing else.

"Right," Cloud murmurs, eyeing the number for a moment before bowing his head. So it's ready. A bit sooner than he had been expecting, but… it's ready. All he has to do now is send the command and the second thing would be done – and his so called mission would be complete. The future would be prevented, as far as that goes anyway.

But… if he sends the command, it would probably mean the deaths of thousands, of hundreds of thousands. If not immediately, then over the course of the months that follows…

Straightening his back a bit, Cloud drew a breath, holding it in for a long while, hesitating but not quite. No. There is nothing to hesitate about. This is why he's here, after all, this is why he had come – Jenova had just been a side mission, while this was his main objective. This is what he had come back in time to do. _This_. This one command and nothing else.

And what are the deaths of hundreds of thousands, when it was the death of all living things on the planet in the balance? Not to mention Gaia herself.

Slowly, he hits reply and types: _execute program_. He hesitates for a split second, before pressing send and watching the icon flash before it confirms that the reply had reached its destination. The breath he had drawn escapes him in a shuddering sigh and he lowers the phone, lifting his head and staring at nothing, wondering about the consequences, good and bad, and how _easy_ it was to ruin so many lives. And save them, in the end.

Whatever the consequences, it is done.

It is time for ShinRa to kneel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was posting this slow because I hoped that I might find the inspiration and that the reviews might help but no such luck.


	6. Chapter 6

It takes ShinRa about an hour to collapse – but a day to realise it.

It starts when the Mako reactors shut down.

When they do, it first looks like something that should be easily repaired – just a power failure and nothing more, all they have to do is reboot the system. That is how the first hour is spent, trying to reboot a system that had simply ceased functioning for no apparent reason – first in Midgar, where each and every of the eight reactors had simultaneously just stopped. Then the word begins to spread that the same had happened in Junon, in Condor, in Corel, in Gogaga, in Nibelheim, and everywhere else where there is a Mako Reactor.

It takes hour to find out that a simple rebooting won't do a thing – it's not just a software failure but something else, something worse. And so experts are send out to every reactor to try and find the fault, the one gadget holding the whole back. Except it's not just one gadget, or one gear. It's all of them.

And listing them takes the entire day.

"It started with the failure of the cooling units," Tseng reads from the report he had managed to snatch from the science department. "They didn't just stop working, but released the chemicals that are vital to the process – chemicals which are rather dangerous. Their release caused the malfunction in the cooling vents, which… melted and disintegrated instantly."

"That's it?" Genesis asks, rather hopeful.

"No. Shortly after the cooling units failed, the pumps… sank," Tseng says, grimacing. "Each mako reactor has three pumps which pull the energy from the planet's crust, and because of the nature of their function they're a kept suspended by clamps which can be moved – because the energy shifts, the pumps have to shift as well. Except the clamps released all the pumps at the same time, and they sank into ducts.

"In the mean while the rest of the system failed, the most important of this were the rotors which keeps the Mako pools in slight motion. After that, the Mako, which has to be kept in at least some motion, begun… shall we say, crystallising?" the Turk continues, still looking at the report. "And because at that time the failure of the cooling units was having a catastrophic effects and the Mako had reached temperatures that the reactor couldn't handle. The weight, plus the heat… All the Mako tanks, pools and vents corroded within few minutes, and Mako begin spilling into the system. It is… completely ruined now."

"This happened to all of them?" Veld asks with a grimace.

"Not all of them. Others failed in slightly different ways – west continent the system used to transport Mako is a bit older model and it relies on system of ducts – those failed first there, and the Mako spilled all across the reactor. The destruction of the system was faster there. In Nibelheim, the reactor core sank into the Mako pools when the system holding it in place failed, very nearly causing an explosion. And in Gongaga, the cooling units went into over ride causing the Mako to crystallise in the pools and in the ducts, which caused most of the ducts to collapse, plus the pools, and all of the pipes… blew, because Mako expanse slightly as it crystallises."

"What does the science department think caused this?" Genesis asks, frowning.

"They haven't a clue," Tseng says, lowering the documents. "First idea was of sabotage, but there is no sign of it anywhere, and most of these systems are controlled by automated programs. And what happened was entirely too elaborate to be a program failure."

"And can this be fixed?" Veld asks quietly.

Tseng doesn't answer, just shakes his head slowly. "I don't know, sir. The damage is too thorough and they can't stop the corroding effects of the Mako. The only reason the reactors haven't blown up yet is because the Mako is partially draining back down into the planet due to the collapse of the pumps – and that is still a distinctive possibility."

Couple hours later – four hours after the reactors failed – it becomes more than possibility. Sector five reactor is the first one to blow, and though the damage isn't as horrific as everyone had expected, and very little of the flames reach outside the reactor, the inside is completely ruined. While efforts are exerted there to put the fires out and somehow stop the mako before it would begin spilling out of the now completely ruined complex, sector two reactor goes the same way, in internal explosion which starts from the mako pools, and completely annihilates the inside.

Half an hour after that, ShinRa begins evacuating personnel and civilians from half a mile radius of all the reactors, leaving the central Midgar extremely crowded and extremely agitated.

"We just got word from Corel, sir," one of the Turks who are hanging about the crowd where Genesis and the other SOILDIERs are, rather desperately, trying to contain the people's panic. "Their reactor blew just ten minutes after evacuation order. Fourteen people died."

"Damn it. Okay, to hell with the president, sent evacuation orders into every goddamn mako reactor on the Planet and tell them to get the hell out of there," Genesis snaps. "They say they might not all blow, but let's not take any chances."

In the end, five reactors in total blow up – one more in Midgar and the Gongaga Reactor which didn't as much blow as it collapsed in on itself as the expanding crystallisation inside ruined the structure and made the upper levels collapse on top of it, at which point it caught on fire. After that, it's unnerved waiting to see if the others would go as well – especially in Midgar where there are still five more reactors and one of them had caught on fire due to the sheer heat inside – but thanks to orders given at the last moment, the bottom vents in the mako pools had been released just before final evacuation, and where they still worked, some of the Mako had drained away, releasing some of the pressure and thus preventing explosions.

"Is that it?" Genesis murmurs, more to himself than to the people around him – Alphas, betas, gammas, deltas, and so forth, so forth, all of them terrified and all of them panicking. They are crying, shouting and yelling and he almost gives into the urge to just Assert over them all to keep them quiet – but at this point it might just mean their all deaths, if there'd be more destruction, if it reached central Midgar.

Then, with a sad hum that echoes through the whole city, the lights go out and the eternal buzz of machinery, of air vents and transport systems and street lights, dies, leaving the whole of Midgar in perfect, terrified darkness.

 

-

 

By the time they make it back to the East Continent from Mideel, it's already too late. They pass by silent Fort Condor on their way where the gigantic condor looks around confusedly, peering at the mountain below like expecting an explanation to the sudden change. Junon is the same – silent and lightless in the early morning, without a lamp burning on the streets, or in the windows. The streets are full of confused, agitated people, and by the looks of it, it's already a near riot there.

By the time they reach Midgar, it's been almost a day since Sephiroth had gotten the word about the failure of the Mako reactors, and the city is in chaos. The SOLDIER have the space around the Sector one cleared, more or less, and so the ShinRa HQ is protected, for all the good that it will do to anyone, considering that _there is no power._ They have to land in front of the building rather than on top of it like usually, because without power there are no functional elevators, and none of them has the time scale the walls or run down seventy floors worth of stairs.

"When did it start?" the ultimate Alpha asks, as he steps out of the helicopter with Angeal on his heels, Zack following close behind them.

"The power failure or the rioting?" Genesis asks with a snort. "After the sector seven reactor blew, more or less. After the lights went out, people just went nuts, and this is the fun part; Assertion doesn't work on them right now."

"What?" Angeal snaps, stepping closer with his hand resting on the handle of the Buster Sword.

"They're panicking, terrified, and they think that the world is coming to an end," Genesis snorts. "Few of them are still holding to some level of sanity and we can Assert those into compliance, but that's one out of ten. The rest, they've just thrown themselves at the terror and so they're breaking into shops and stealing stuff with no rhyme or reason. And there's a bit of a chain reaction going on too – the bigger the crowd panicking, the more people join it."

"Damn it," Sephiroth murmurs, scowling slightly at the security line the SOLDIER's and the Infantry had established around the head quarters. They didn't have as many people present as he would've liked – good half of ShinRa's military forces was stationed in Wutai right then, and thus completely useless. There's be no where enough people to take back the city. "The president?"

"Locked up in level seventy, from what I last heard," Genesis says, shaking his head. "He can't get out because the doors don't work. I had to put some of the infantry into work busting the doors, plus we need to break through the floors on the upper levels where there are no staircases at all. It's taking a while."

"Hm. Well, he won't be in any danger there," Sephiroth muses, and turns to look at the streets. There are no crowds near the line of SOLDIERS and infantrymen, but he can see them in a distance – a tall man is dragging with him what looks like a box full of electronics. What he though he could do with electronics when there was no power, the General wasn't sure, though. Though what any of them were thinking was hard to say - not far from the electronics man there was another who was lugging with him a vase of water bottles. Water bottles…?

"Without power, what do we loose?" he asks, considering.

"Uh, everything?" Genesis asks rather sarcastically. "Lights, transportation, pretty much all our machinery – of course things with their own power sources still work, robots, cars, stuff like that, but after they run dry we can't refuel them."

"The trains won't work," Angeal says thoughtfully. "And we won't be able to open the gates between sectors – if they were shut at the time, they'll stay shut. We might be able to use that to our advantage, take the city back sector by sector – that ought to be easier than trying to take it all back all at once."

"Water," Sephiroth says, frowning. "We loose pressure in the mains – we probably already lost the water stations, without power. We lose ventilation and refrigeration – we loose heating. But most of all, we lose water," While Genesis and Angeal just blink at him. "Send everyone you can spare to fill every damn container they can find with as much water as they can manage. And put the whole building under order not to use the damn bathrooms – the moment the pressure goes, they'll start overflowing if they haven't already."

While Genesis jerks and then goes to do as ordered, Sephiroth looks around for a likely person and then catches a glimpse of red haired man in a suit. "You, do you know anything about the city's broadcast system? The speakers, not the televised one."

"I know a bit," the Turk answers, looking surprise.

"Is there any way to get it running, even for a little while, by using external power sources, say, taken from robots?"

The Turk blinks with surprise and then looks thoughtful. "I don't know. Maybe? We'd have to wire power sources separately around the grid, but…"

"Get to it; use all the personnel and resources you have to and pull apart every robot in the city if it comes to it, just get me that system," Sephiroth orders and turns to Angeal. "We need to tell people to stock up on water and sort their food before it starts going bad. At this point is pretty much useless to tell them not to panic, but if we can get them looking after their own needs rather than just panicking randomly, we might make them reasonable enough to make them responsive to Assertion again. Anything to add?"

"Uh…" Angeal considers it. "Well, basic sanitation, rationing food and water, things like that - but without power… How can people cook their food? Or boil their water, if it becomes contaminated? If they try and make fires for it…"

"Damn it. Well, let's stick to water and food for now and let's hope that it'll be enough to bring them to their senses," Sephiroth says, frowning. "Also, best to open the gates, blow them up if we have to. Without power we lose not just transportation but transported goods – and Midgar is dependant on them. Give it a day or two, and this city will run out of food."

"But there won't be any more anywhere else – all the power is down, everywhere," Angeal points out.

"True, but most old towns should be able to survive it – in Kalm they can switch to burning wood, easily enough, and it ought to be same in other towns too. And they're surrounded by farm lands, so they are okay for now," Sephiroth says frowning. "But let's figure that out later – first we need to instil some sanity back to this place."

"Right," Angeal nods. "I'll start with the gates."

"The slums too," Zack says from his side, leaning forward anxiously. "We need to do something about the slums too – there are people down there, and without ventilation…"

Sephiroth pauses at that, considering it. Without ventilation, the people down in the slums would choke. Not immediately perhaps, but eventually – and on top of that without ventilation, the toxicity levels would probably sky rocket down there.

His first instinct is to forget them; there are more people above the plate than there is below it, but… something stops him.

 _All you can,_ a Voice somewhere inside him whispers. _Not just the ones you have to, or the ones you're told to. All of them. They are_ yours _after all. Each and every one of them. And you have that responsibility over them, as their ultimate Alpha_.

"Send a team down there, and blow up the walls," Sephiroth says at last.

 _That is what it means to be an_ ultimate _. It is not just power, Assertive or otherwise. It is responsibility, it is duty. Your obligation to them._

"What?!" Angeal asks, turning to him.

"Blow holes into the city walls, let the people in the slums out," Sephiroth snaps. "Or at least let air in. Fair," he says, turning to the SOLDIER Second. "I can trust you to do it."

"Yes, sir," the black haired SOLDIER says, snapping a loose salute. "Permission to get SOLDIER Second Kunsel with me? He's better with figuring out what to go after and what's the more efficient way to do something."

"Granted. Get to it," Sephiroth says, While Angeal looks wildly between him and his already retreating student.

"Well, that was unexpected of you," Angeal says slowly. "Since when do you –?"

"Never mind that now," the ultimate Alpha snarls. "We have work to do and not much time to do it. Go break open the gates, Angeal. That's an order."

"Yes, sir," the second in command says, sounding more bewildered than anything else, and with a shake of his head Sephiroth turns to return to the HQ, hoping that they could do it all before it would be too late.

 

-

 

A day and ShinRa's control over Midgar is all but lost. It starts with the panic and the riots, it evolves into a mass exodus when Sephiroth makes his announcement, telling people to stack water and food if they can, watch for their hygiene and that, no, they're not going to get power back. Angeal almost expects ShinRa to crack down on Sephiroth for that little announcement – but they don't, they can't, because it was the simple truth.

The Mako reactors are each and every one of them ruined beyond repair, and that's that.

Once the gates are opened, the mass exodus begins, and it by the time they finally loose the rest of the pressure in the mains, it's at full swing. Some stay, scrounging up whatever resources they have at hand and trusting ShinRa to fix things, but those are only half, if even that, of Midgar's total population. People who have cars clog the streets, rest head out on foot, on motorcycles, on bicycles if they have them, and for a long while – for days – it looks like whole of Midgar is in move to get out.

It's not just Midgar, though. Junon has things a bit easier, with the old Junon still nestled to the side of the new Junon, and with ocean so close by – they still have a fishing industry going on, even if the mako powered ships are dying, there are enough of those who fish by row boats left for the rest to feel hopeful enough to stay. Or at least, to stay close by. Water there is running out as well, leaving people to try and distil fresh water from salt water, with varying levels of success.

"The other towns with mako reactors have it easier – they are older, they have still old technology left," Angeal muses, after sorting through what few reports are still coming through. The PHS network is going down as power runs out, but they had managed to keep just enough of the relay stations up by using other power sources to keep the flow of information sort of running. It doesn't help that everyone is trying to call everybody, thus overloading the phone lines, but with the ShinRa specific emergency lines still functional, they have at least that.

Except for the fact that they are completely cut off from the west and north continents and pretty much all the islands further than twenty miles from east continent's shores.

"How many people have we lost so far?" Sephiroth asks, he too trying to sort through the influx of messy reports.

"Over half of those who came to work this morning left. We still got SOLDIER, most of the infantry but the office workers, secretaries… Obviously all the factory workers cleared out pretty much the moment the power ran out, so Weapons Development is a ghost town," the Turk who has been working with them to try and keep up the network – Reno, who thanks to the whole Ultima incident had became rather efficient with ShinRa's information technology – says. "Hojo's pretty much locked up the science department so no one's left – they're busy trying to contain all the chemicals, research subjects and whatnot."

"Idiot," Sephiroth mutters. "Do we have _anyone_ from the Weapons Development left?"

"The head is somewhere around the building, probably, plus her posse," Reno says, scratching the back of his neck. "Why?"

"Well, the power is out and we could use alternate means of getting some more," Genesis says, rolling his eyes.

"The Weapons Development is out best bet of getting some of it back. Maybe not all, but if we could get the water station working, that would already be something," Sephiroth says, frowning at his PHS and then pocketing it. "With less people in the city, now, we can do with less – but we need sewer system back online."

"Why?" Zack asks, tilting his head to the side a bit. "Why's that so important?"

"Because cholera," Sephiroth says, and stalks off to find Scarlet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed unfinished chapter, but anyway.  
> Have happy holidays!


End file.
